Freedom's Consequence, Rapture's Reward
by CelticSass
Summary: PostHogwarts,DMHG Pairing: When trying to fulfill the terms of a relative's will Hermione Granger enters into a dangerous bargain with her childhood nemesis Draco Malfoy. Fate conspires against Hermione and the arrangment grows more complicated.
1. An Ominous Bargain

**Title**: Freedom's Consequence, Rapture's Reward

**Author:** CelticSass

**Rating:** M (This rating is for mild violence, briefly mentioned dark themes, sexual situations, adult language, and adult themes.)

**Disclaimer:** The characters contained in this fanfiction are the sole property of J.K. Rowling her publishers, their publishing houses, and the fine studio of Warner Bros. and subsidiaries. I will in no way sell or reproduce this story for profit. In no way will any funds be made from the writing of this work. Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well.

Summary:

A long lost relative leaves Hermione a small fortune in her will. However there is a catch and Hermione must marry one year from her relative's death before she can take possession of her inheritance. Unable to find a suitable husband Hermione grows desperate and enlists the help of her friend Neville Longbottom in a dangerous scheme. Thinking to marry a prisoner of the Ministry of Magic sentenced to death so that she will not be forced to remain in a loveless marriage and have the matter settled Hermione is left with only one choice. Forfeiting all pride she asks the unimaginable of her childhood nemesis Draco Malfoy. Striking a bargain with the infuriating Malfoy she assumes that all will proceed as she has planned. When the terms of the agreement are met Hermione is certain that she can put the dreadful night behind her, but fate and Malfoy each have different intentions.

Chapter 1

An Ominous Bargain

There were things that one simply did not do and that was try and gain entrance to see a Ministry of Magic prisoner for any purpose. If Percy Weasley were to discover that he had even entertained the idea one Neville Longbottom was certain he would be promptly shown the door and his employment at the Ministry would be a distant memory. That said he could never say no to her and all in all her reasons for concocting the most insane plan he'd ever known her to devise were selfless.

Even if that damned S.P.E.W. for those little house elves was a bit out of the ordinary to say the least, researching and inventing new counter spells was always something one should dabble in if they were of the intelligence to do so. Of course research and foundations even hopeless ones like the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare, were worth at least testing on a larger scale and perhaps his industrious little friend could make a go of it. Then again was it really worth entering into such an agreement with someone so vile and untrustworthy even if that someone was scheduled for execution at the end of the following week? Naturally he hadn't told her exactly who the prisoner was just yet.

"Hermione are you sure this is something you want to do? I know you have it all worked out in your mind and you think that this ties up every loose end, but do you suppose that this might be a little extreme?"

Sighing heavily with aggravation and impatience Hermione Granger sized up her sometimes timid friend. He was only worried about her so she stamped down her annoyance that it was the hundredth time in the space of an hour he had asked her that very same question. "Neville we've been through this and there isn't any other way. Now you know Harry and Ron would never have approved so I'm begging you to keep this secret do you understand?"

Nodding dejectedly at not being able to dissuade her Neville sat back in the carriage and waited as it came to a halt before the Ministry. Maybe if he told her the name of the prisoner she might think differently about her intentions. Somehow though he knew she would be angry with him for his deception and decision not to reveal the prisoner's identity sooner. Maybe it was best to let her be surprised knowing her temper.

Hermione was sharing her friend's misgivings about her proposed arrangement but it wasn't her fault she had to resort to such excessive measures. Long lost relatives with sizeable fortunes were very nice to find as long as they veered away from eccentric tendencies. Not so fortunately for Hermione said aunt did have an eccentric streak and that was the reason for her decent into madness at the moment.

Nearly a year ago just after graduation an aunt of her mother's that Hermione had never heard mention of before appeared. Her mother had been hesitant at first explaining that Aunt June Durston had always been somewhat of the black sheep of the family, but Aunt June made herself at home with the Grangers easily within a few days. Her stay was short lived as her condition was failing and she had only come to find her last remaining relative, Hermione's mother. After the Grangers had laid her to rest a copy of her will was sent by messenger and read by a local barrister. That was when the chaos had ensued.

The darling June had left Hermione's mother her estate in Wales and to Hermione a lump some of nearly six hundred thousand pounds. There was a small catch to Hermione's inheritance, June's sense of humor or sick need to control something beyond the grave evident in the request. Hermione Granger must marry before one year had passed after June's death or the inheritance would be forfeited and sent to an undisclosed charity.

She had tried for a while to find a suitable young man, wizard and muggle alike, but no one had been able to hold her interest long enough. Marriage was a monumental commitment and when one entered into such a union it was until death parted the respective spouses. So that was the root of her plan to some extent, since she had found no one as of yet, and there were numerous Death Eaters and dark wizards being sentenced to death by the Ministry daily she'd formed a scheme. By marrying one of the condemned men in secret she could be rid of him by natural means and since he would obviously be of a dubious character and deserving of his fate she had nothing to feel guilty about. Besides the house elves of the Wizarding World needed her and there were so many ideas she had for researching spells and potions that it kept her awake at night trying to write down every inspiration as it came to mind. If Aunt June was going to make the terms of her will irregular Hermione saw nothing wrong in fulfilling the terms in a rather irregular way.

Neville helped her from the carriage and muttered some excuse to the wizard guarding the entrance as to what he was doing at such a late hour. Though suspicious the young wizard let the pair pass and once inside Neville muttered the apparating spell known only to Ministry Wizards that lead to the holding cells of the condemned, doomed for Azkaban. Hermione drew closer to her friend for comfort as the darkness and shouts coming from the rooms were unnerving.

"Why don't you put a silencing charm on their cells?" she asked Neville cringing at a particularly rude insult hurled at no one in particular emanating from a room to their left.

"Because sometimes they actually slip up and tell something useful. They rant all night long some of them so eventually they go a little mad and tell some secrets here and there," Neville explained counting the number of cells to his right stopping at the next to the last one down the hallway.

"You're certain this one will be reasonable and is scheduled for transport to Azkaban at the end of this week?" Hermione wanted to be certain her plan was in no danger of failing.

"Well none of them are what you'd call reasonable, but yes he's scheduled for transport to Azkaban and will be executed next week," Neville assured her drawing in a deep breath before opening the cell before them.

"Keep your wits about you Mione' and don't let your guard down for a second. This one is suspected to be have some rather strong mental abilities. Have your wand at the ready," he advised knowing it was now or never.

Nodding Hermione straightened her back not afraid of any Death Eater or dark wizard. She had stood at Harry Potter's side during the final battle against the most evil wizard of all; whatever creature lay beyond in the cell could not unnerve her. Neville reluctantly opened the door with a secret incantation and stepped in Hermione following him.

"I thought I told you to fucking sod off Weasel," a sinister voice echoed through the room laced with some weariness and exceptional irritation.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but Percy's actually gone for the evening," Neville sighed unruffled by the behavior of the prisoner. This was rather tame to say the least. He usually was trying to invade their minds and planting suggestions there, attempting to turn them against one another and make a chance at his escape.

For only a second was Hermione caught off guard then she leveled Neville with a blistering glare. "Didn't know who the prisoner was? Gods Neville you didn't say it was Malfoy," she spat as though the very name she had spoken was poison on her lips.

"Now Mione' I thought you said that it didn't matter who…" Neville began holding up his hands in surrender.

"It matters when it's that thickheaded git Malfoy by Gods you know it Neville," she hissed her face getting flushed and her chest heaving. Of all of the things Neville had neglected to tell her about the prisoner or learn for himself it had to be his name.

The man being discussed cleared his throat loudly with mild annoyance. "So Longbottom, Weasel finally let you have the keys to the kingdom as it were? I thought you weren't allowed to interrogate prisoners anymore? Don't have the stomach for it?"

Neville shifted nervously from one foot to the other like he had always done when Malfoy had taken to teasing him relentlessly or insulting him. It was as if they were in school again, not prisoner and warden so to speak. "I don't have business with you, Miss Granger does and I suggest you act civilly because what she has to say might benefit you."

"Neville I don't think I care to get into what I came to discuss. I don't want to benefit Malfoy in any way," Hermione turned her back then to leave.

Neville did grow a bit angry then. He had risked his job at the Ministry, risked his reputation, would have to endure Malfoy's mocking while they conducted the affair, dammit Hermione was going to finish what she started. "No, this is your last chance. He's the only one scheduled for execution before the end of the month and that's when the terms of the will state your time is up. It's now or never."

"Find someone else and we'll back date the marriage certificate," she growled still not turning around.

"Hermione, now I'm not fond of the bastard either, but at least it gets you the money and the chance to start that elf foundation and your research," he tried to reason with her. She was stubborn and it wasn't an endearing quality at the moment.

"The bastard is right here Longbottom and can hear every word you're spitting out of that useless mouth of yours," Malfoy drawled with aggravation.

"I'm not doing it Neville. I'd rather have my eyes gouged out with hot pokers," Hermione snapped at her friend when Neville reached and caught her wrist to propel her backward.

"This conversation alone makes torture seem more merciful." This was from Malfoy again more infuriated that whatever the Mudblood and the worthless Longbottom discussed was actually intriguing him in the least. He had been staring at these four walls for far too long if he thought anything about them was interesting.

"I have to agree with him on that one Neville," Hermione sighed jerking out of his hold.

"Fine, I'll do it for you if you're going to be this obstinate." Neville notched his chin with a frustrated sigh. Why did it have to be that the heartless prat from their school years was the only one listed on the execution list for the rest of the month?

"Miss Granger had the unfortunate experience of losing a relative almost a year ago. In her will she left Miss Granger a rather sizeable amount of money except she had a rather unusual request attached. Before Miss Granger can receive the money she must be married," Neville finished explaining throwing a small warning glare to Hermione over his shoulder when it looked as though she might run from the room right then and there.

"So Potter and the other Weasel were occupied?" Malfoy asked raising an incredulous brow.

"Miss Granger doesn't particularly wish to be married, but for the sake of the money she's willing to make the sacrifice. However she thought that marrying a prisoner sentenced to death would be the easier answer since she could marry in secret, present the barrister with the certificate, and collect the money. The man will be put to death and Miss Granger will be free to go about her life as she did before."

"That is the most selfish, avaricious plan Granger's ever come up with. I'm almost impressed, but not enough to care really," Malfoy shrugged noncommittally causing the magically charmed manacles around his wrist and chains secured to the wall at his back to creak and moan.

"See Neville you've wasted your breath just like anyone else who's ever tried to make any sense with him at all," Hermione grumbled more than humiliated in how Neville had made the arrangement seem. She wasn't selfish!

"What Mr. Longbottom meant to say was that I need the money for research and an organization I'm hoping to maintain. I'm sorry to disappoint you but I'm needing to marry and let death part me with my husband for purely noble reasons," she finished making sure to look down her nose at the arrogant man reduced to nothing more than shackles and a murderous reputation.

"I'm not sure the fellow you're planning to trap into such an arrangement would see your intentions as noble," Malfoy snorted dubiously. "Besides what do you expect to offer him in return? Sounds like a very one sided agreement to me."

"I don't care what it sounds like to you since it doesn't concern you. Neville if you don't mind we really should be going," she rolled her eyes and ground her teeth with bitter displeasure.

"Hermione this is your last chance you've got to…" Neville began but Hermione's fiery glare stilled his words. So be it, he'd tried, this was her last opportunity and she was throwing it away. Then again it was Malfoy. He could turn the stomach at the very sight of him or first sound of his voice.

With a last sigh of regret Neville started to lead Hermione away. Gods if Percy ever found out, and Malfoy would probably tell him out of spite. Then again Percy wouldn't believe someone like Malfoy would he? Then again he might? The stress was beginning to wear on his mind and he was truly sorry he'd let Hermione talk him into this madness.

"You didn't answer my question Mudblood." Malfoy's insulting question rang out behind them.

That one word caused her to spin on her heels and frown fiercely at the prisoner. "You're in no position to play the lofty heir of the manor anymore Malfoy. Pureblood or not you're going to be put to death like the rest of your evil associates. I suggest you ready yourself for your fate instead of trying to hold on to petty prejudices."

"I'm never petty, just the opposite. There's nothing insignificant about me in the least, but I did ask you a question and you're the one being rude by not answering," he pointed out trying to mask his disdain for her with a charming innocence. He was insane, actually to be considering this, but if she agreed to his terms it would be worth it before facing the day of his death.

Underhanded affair that was to be sure, he growled mentally. He'd never murdered a soul, but damn Crabbe and Goyle, their father's had managed to survive the war and plead their cases for them, taking much of the blame for their sons actions. He hated his father as much dead as he had alive in that moment for the one time he would have been useful, shouldering the blame for what he himself had ordered his son to do, Lucius Malfoy had departed the earth at the hands of an Auror trying to escape Azkaban once again.

Yet he knew better than to blame his father entirely, he had been almost at the age of consent when he'd agreed to the plan to infiltrate Hogwarts and had allowed Professor Snape to bear the brunt of his own sins. Snape had always been there to promise help if he had needed it, and when it was too late Snape had done the only thing he could, he'd killed the man Draco himself was sent to murder. He'd seen or heard nothing from the professor since two weeks after that night, but he did at times wonder if the Ministry had captured him or put him to death. If so then Draco was decidedly more aggravated than before because if such a thing had happened then unbidden a niggling sense of guilt ate away at his consciousness. Nothing was weaker than guilt or remorse so he firmly banished such feelings readily whenever they tried to overtake him.

"What do you mean?" Hermione's sharp angry voice burst into his thoughts annoying him further.

"What would be in it for the poor man you marry? Obviously not money you intend to keep it all for yourself and the bloke couldn't spend it anyway locked away. So I have to wonder what you had in mind is all."

"Nothing," she answered bluntly and without remorse. "If he is condemned to death then he deserves nothing in return for his misdeeds."

"That is my point exactly. If he is condemned to death then what could he possibly gain from marrying you at all? To my way of thinking you should be offering something to sweeten the deal. Perhaps an evening's freedom, one last meal from a fine restaurant, another look at the city before he's blotted out of existence forever." Malfoy could tell he was making progress because he could all but see the wheels in her cunning mind turning around. That was the other maddening quality he hated about her and always would. She was too damned smart for her own good and readily loved to make him look the fool at every opportunity. Well perhaps now he had given her something to think on that she hadn't pondered before. Watching her entertain his words was somewhat amusing.

"Dinner, a tour of the city, like in a carriage ride?" she asked still grappling with the ins and outs of securing a prisoner's release for such a purpose.

"However you can manage it, but a carriage ride I suppose would be appropriate. Of course that is assuming the poor bastard accepts your terms," he muttered trying to appear unaffected and not wanting her to see just how much he was considering taking her up on her offer.

How bad could it be? Marry the plain little Mudblood and secure one last evening away from the dreary confines of the Ministry. Maybe he could even manage an escape. That was promising, the idea of escape. He had been rather tame lately and so they wouldn't suspect him of having certain other abilities to aid his cause. Suddenly signing his name to a piece of paper with the mousy Granger wasn't that bad of an idea after all.

"Why wouldn't he?" she asked him as though anyone would jump at the chance to marry her or leave their Ministry cell if even for only a few hours. She wasn't that far off and Draco was more than a little furious with himself that he was as desperate as any to get one last breath of fresh air.

"Well those are nice terms, nice, comfortable, unassuming terms, but what if the prisoner wanted more?" This was where she was a bit dense he decided when instead of looking shocked that he might be implying something sexual she appeared genuinely perplexed.

"I don't know what else he could want. A decent meal, a night out, the last taste of freedom, which would be a good deal more than he would deserve." Hermione hadn't thought of offering anything in return but grudgingly she admitted it might make whomever she chose a bit more apt to accept her proposal.

"Do I understand you both right?" Neville stepped in between the two now utterly confused. Were they actually considering entering into an agreement of sorts?

"Neville, be still. I'm thinking," Hermione reprimanded him suddenly mulling over losing a good deal of pride in asking anything of Malfoy.

She didn't like the odds that were stacking against her. Neville was right that this was her last opportunity and Malfoy was right, maddeningly so, that whomever she chose would expect something in return. What was so terrible in having the deed done and over with. Aunt June would be pacified, she would have her money for her organization and she could begin her research.

"Gods know I'll be regretting this for the rest of my life, but Malfoy would you be so kind as to help me get my inheritance? I'll agree to the terms you just stated if you agree to keep your filthy mouth shut and take this secret with you to the grave," she stated with authority and perfect grace.

She almost gave the impression of being haughty and for a moment she wasn't just a Mudblood or the bothersome Granger. She was a worthy adversary and nearly attractive in some unexpected way. That was the moment he knew he had been locked away from the world for too long as his mind had failed him when he most needed to keep his wits if he was finding something pleasing to think about Granger.

"I would like to discuss this further," he baited sounding nonchalant and unhurried. "Send Longbottom away and we'll work through the rest of the agreement."

"That won't be necessary," Neville said hotly coming to stand at Hermione's side. He wouldn't just leave her alone with any prisoner especially the one before them.

Hermione studied Malfoy for a moment. There was something she couldn't put her finger on, but he was interested in more ways than one in her offer. That alone made it worth it to hear him out. "Neville it's all right. I'm not so fragile that I can't handle Malfoy and he's chained to a wall. What can he possibly do?"  
More than you wish to imagine, but Malfoy kept silent feeling a surge of triumph. He'd be free before the week was out and one of his greatest enemies would have helped secure his release. It was priceless really.

"Hermione," Neville began cautiously.

"Neville I'm quite fine. If I need you I will call," she stated straightening her back and not taking her gaze from Malfoy.

"You'll not try anything foolish Malfoy. There's no place for you to run and hide in the Ministry. Even if you get past this cell…"

"Yes, yes, I know you'll curse me to oblivion and send me to rot in the depths of hell," Malfoy finished impatiently for him. "That would probably be a much better fit for me as far as you're concerned, but right now I'm in the middle of conducting a business transaction and don't have the time to care if you're going to finally grow balls and make good your threat."

Neville's face grew red, but not with embarrassment, with rage. The days of having to meekly stand by and listen to whatever Malfoy said and remarked about his character were over. "One more word from you and you'll be shipped to Azkaban tonight and executed in the morning."

Malfoy gritted his teeth wanting to say much more, hurl vicious insults back at the pompous little Auror, but held his tongue. He couldn't ruin everything by losing his temper now. Actually pounding the sodding little prick's head against the wall was appealing, but that would have to wait until he tried to make his escape. Neville left then, making it known he didn't trust Malfoy and that Hermione was a fool for agreeing to listen to his terms in private.

"You have my attention," she said loftily sighing as though she was bored with the entire subject.

She took her time to assess him then. He hadn't changed much since their sixth year of school, taller perhaps, larger in the shoulders, but still the same disinterested sneer and icy silvery blue stare. His frame was gaunt though and there were shadows on his highly arched cheekbones and circles under his eyes. Of course most prisoners probably appeared to look so thoroughly disheveled. A ragged shirt too long and hanging almost to his knees was paired with an equally frayed pair of trousers that also appeared to be many sizes too large were all he wore. It was another disgrace he must face she knew for he had always been impeccably dressed during their school years.

"Now that we can discuss things of a more delicate nature," Malfoy said lazily walking closer to Hermione as far as the chains would let him. "If I agree to this do you promise to honor whatever terms I choose?"

That was a silly question she thought. Hadn't she just stated that she would honor all of his conditions? "Yes I already told you I would."

"Good, then I have your word no matter what you'll consent to abiding by our agreement?"

Her guard went up then, as she knew there was something more now that he was alluding to. Still she had to agree there was no choice now. Her time was almost up. "Yes," she said cautiously again.

He extended his hand then intending for her to shake it to solidify their bargain. "Then very well. Secure my freedom for one night. I want to dine in a restaurant of my choosing, one last look of the city for a good solid hour or more mind you, and what every groom expects of course a wedding night," he finished casually smirking when she froze at hearing his last request.

Her hand hovered just inches from taking his in a firm grip of contract when he had made his last stipulation known. "What, you can't be serious? I'm being more than generous letting you have a night away from here at all."

"You said anything, you already agreed," he pointed out loving the anger that was already bubbling to the surface around her. This might be more enjoyable than he had first thought.

"Wouldn't that be breaking some code of honor, lowering yourself to sleep with a Mudblood?" she asked hoping that it would make him come to his senses or he would admit he was mocking her to make her more uneasy.

"When you've been in here as long as I have, interrogated daily, one woman is as good as the next." That much was true to be sure, but to Granger's benefit she wasn't some whore off the street either so he could feel confident she was going to pass off some dreaded disease or be so ill used as to be pathetic.

Minutes ticked by and Hermione couldn't find a way to refuse or a way to get him to change his terms. Then it came to her. Neville would probably shackle him in the carriage and if she kept her distance after the night had ended he would have to go back to his cell and there would be no time for the latter part of the bargain. Feeling very sure of herself again Hermione gripped his hand briefly in exchange. "It's a bargain then?"

If he hadn't thought it would make her suspicious and want to renege he would have laughed at how victorious she looked. He almost felt sorry for her false security, as he had easily read her thoughts while she pondered her options. Poor little Mudblood, she actually thought she could win this battle of wills. Unfortunately she was setting herself for a grand disappointment.

"Yes, Granger it's a bargain," he said silkily so that Hermione did question her sanity for a moment if but briefly.

Freedom's consequence Love's Reward


	2. A Taste of Freedom

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 2

A Taste of Freedom

Looking at her coffee colored hair, now soft and curling ever so slightly at the ends cascading down around her shoulders Hermione did not care if she frizzed the tresses. She even contemplated letting the dark circles under her light brown eyes remain evident. What had she been thinking? She was going to marry for a noble cause that was true, but what was the price for such a sacrifice?

Neville was still cross with her for agreeing to let Malfoy have a free pass for the evening. She was cross with herself for agreeing to anything so foolish. He wasn't trustworthy, he wasn't worth a merciful act, or any kind of respect. Just what had possessed her to commit to such a bargain?

She doubted he would go as far as to try and fulfill the entire bargain as he wouldn't lower himself so much to touch any witch who was not pureblooded of nature. Frankly that part was the one that did not bother her in the least, as she was certain it would never come to that. He would get his last glimpse of the city in that carriage and promptly be taken back to his cell. Nothing further could take place.

If she didn't honor that part of the agreement however would he tell anyone of her indiscretion? Surely he wasn't serious about every aspect of the terms he had suggested? Of course not, she calmed herself then and began to sweep some of her hair up on top of her head in a fashionable style. He was trying to gain the upper hand in the situation when there was no way he could possibly win. It was a desperate act on his part since he had always been so sure of himself in the past and now he had only his arrogance and mocking remarks to help him survive.

Something pulled in her heart then, his fate wasn't fair it seemed when so many other more notorious Death Eaters had been pardoned for greater crimes. There had never truly been any proof of his involvement in the murder of a group of Muggles in east London. Honestly he was probably still in hiding with Snape when the whole thing had taken place, but not to be brave and selfless the lovely gentleman, his house mates Goyle and Crabbe, had testified without a doubt that it was Malfoy who lead the attack himself. Such a claim was highly doubtful but the Ministry had eagerly snatched hold of anything that could make it seem as though they were sufficiently eradicating any and all Death Eaters.

If they truly wanted a headline they should have captured Severus Snape by now she thought with some disgust. It had been almost three years since he murdered Professor Dumbledore and there had not been one sighting of him since. Malfoy deserved a lengthy prison term, but it was Snape who deserved to meet his fate with the executioner.

Hermione frowned at her reflection thinking about the traitorous professor while absently applying powder to her face and blush to her cheeks. She then moved to dab just a hint of lavender shadow over her lids so her eyes would stand out more strikingly. Suddenly realizing that she was purposefully trying to appear attractive for the evening simply out of habit she stopped herself for a moment. Why should she care if she looked anything other than businesslike and indifferent of her appearance? It wasn't as if she had anyone to impress tonight was it?

Someday she would marry again and then she would worry about the dress, flowers, and caterers. Tonight was a business arrangement pure and simple. A few words which neither one of them would mean would be exchanged; they would share a decent meal for the evening, and then the night was over.

She had a feeling Malfoy was not going to be pleased they would not be attending an actual restaurant but what had he expected? He was a criminal convicted of murder and he just couldn't be seen jaunting about London now could he? Well, she supposed he wouldn't exactly see it that way, but that was beside the point.

Neville would have already sent for the food and he already had a centralized location designated so that they could be done with the ceremony and eat in private. Sighing to herself she didn't know how she was going to choke down an entire meal while having to sit across from the insufferable bastard, but if she wanted her money for her organization she would. Gods, but why did it have to be Malfoy? Why couldn't the prisoner have been someone unknown and without so much history?

Taking a glance behind her at the wall clock that read six o'clock she sighed again. Knowing there was no help for it Hermione rose and dressed casually in a light faux silk halter dress that was lavender and came just past her knees. There was no pattern to speak of, but the material felt nice and it was a sleeveless garment so she would not grow too warm in her robes, as it was a rather muggy summer night.

Dutiful and very displeased Neville arrived to take her to the location he had thankfully hidden magically from all prying eyes. "Are you certain Percy won't get suspicious," Hermione asked him cautiously when they stood in front of something that looked to be an abandoned warehouse.

"No, doesn't think I've got it in me to be outright defiant," Neville answered with some tension present in his tone. "Honestly didn't think I had it in me either."

"I'm sorry Neville, but this will all be over in just a few hours," Hermione assured him hugging him impulsively realizing that he was a better friend than she deserved.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you in the room?" he asked not liking the idea of leaving her alone with Malfoy in any respect even if he was going to be just on the other side of the door.

"I think it would be best and the night would go more smoothly if you didn't hover over him. You make him surly and though there's no cause for it, he might lose his temper and I need this night to go off smoothly," she asserted almost desperate to make herself believe that everything could and would go well tonight.

"All right, I had to bribe another guy though Mione', just a trainee nothing too serious. He only thinks I'm interrogating Malfoy in some more sadistic manner so he won't say anything. I'll have him guarding the outside and he'll never know you were involved," Neville explained the details matter of factly to put his friend's mind at ease.

"Thank you again Neville. If there is anything I can ever do for you please tell me. This is more than I should have asked really." She felt guilty now for heaping so much responsibility upon him and making him betray his vow at the Ministry when he had only been working there for a little under a year.

"You can thank me by being careful tonight and not letting your guard down. I know you Mione' and when you start feeling sorry for someone you forget to keep your head about you and let your emotions carry you away." Neville worried that Malfoy might try to invade Hermione's mind and hurt her in some way or make a chance at escape. Just because the man had been acting like a lamb for well over a month didn't mean the lion wasn't lurking under the surface. Actually snake was more apt, but there was no time for particulars.

Securing her robes more tightly about her as though it would keep out any evil that Malfoy my inadvertently radiate Hermione followed Neville inside the warehouse. For an extra sense of security she gripped her wand tightly in the side of her robe pocket. She knew that Malfoy would be shackled in some capacity but it did not hurt to be a bit careful.

Neville bade her stay back for a moment while he ordered the other trainee outside. Once she knew she would not be seen by anyone threatening Hermione caught sight of Neville motioning her to come forward. Taking one last deep breath she plunged head on knowing somewhere that she might be making a mistake but focusing only on the good the money could do others once she had her inheritance.

The room Neville had chosen for them wasn't as shabby and unpleasant as she would have first thought, quite the opposite in fact. He had added many candles so nothing in the least was dark or ominous and a fresh coat of paint and a rather comfortable looking dining table and two chairs graced the center of the room. "I do believe you thought of everything Neville," Hermione squeezed her friend's hand pleased he had been so considerate.

"Now for the matter of who marries you," Neville began, "My mother and father before their accidents were acquainted with an old judge north of Inverness. He's very hard of hearing, can't see his own hand in front of his face, and won't remember the next day what he did the night before. He's perfect and he's supposed to be here any moment."

"We're all waiting with rapt anticipation," Malfoy jeered from the corner not liking it that Hermione had ignored his presence completely. He was after all the only thing that was going to get the greedy little Mudblood her money.

"Yes, I'm sure we all are. Honestly, Malfoy I'm no more pleased with the situation than you, but in the end we're both going to be well compensated," Hermione rolled her eyes impatiently trying to keep her temper in check. There was no point in trying to argue with him he was arrogant and stubborn beyond belief.

To her surprise he was actually groomed for the event with his blond hair freshly cut, Neville's influence no doubt, and clean and pressed shirt and trousers. She was shocked to see he wasn't wearing any robes, but she supposed that was so there was no way to hide anything that might help him escape. As standard procedure he was wearing wrist manacles of lead that were charmed so even should he get his hands on a wand inadvertently there was no danger of him actually performing any effective spells.

"Yes, compensated is that what you call it this these days? Hiring a man for the evening?" he baited forgetting how invigorating it was to irritate her. She had always been such an easy target, but more importantly she gave as good as she got. The battle wasn't one sided.

"I'm not sure what wicked things are running about up in your thick head but I intend to act civilized tonight and since this is your last night to enjoy anything outside a prison cell I suggest you try and act gentlemanly as well," she huffed with great impatience. This was already starting out badly. There was no way he would behave himself in the least and she had four more hours to contend with his less than honorable tendencies.

"Of course there's nothing wicked about bargaining away your life for the sole purpose of obtaining money even if it is, as you say for purely noble reasons," he challenged pleased when her face starting reddening from anger or embarrassment he wasn't sure. Either way it was a satisfying reaction.

"You wouldn't have any idea what it was to be noble," she spat back crossing her arms under her robes taking a defensive stance. This was going to be a long night she realized and she didn't know if she was prepared for much more harassment. "Where is the bloody judge Neville?" she asked in exasperation.

"Always endearing to know a bride can't wait to vow her undying love to her fiancé," Malfoy drawled unable to resist one last jibe.

"He said he would be here at six thirty, but he is running a bit late," Neville said frowning and looking at his watch.

Just then a loud clatter and some mumbling could be heard from the hallway. Moments later a very stooped and withered old man stepped into view grumbling to himself about no one ever remembering to keep things out of another's way when they apparated. "Judge Tremayne?" Neville inquired but he didn't think the elderly man heard him.

"So where's the happy couple, lets get about this," the man rasped readjusting some spectacles on the thin bridge of his nose. It didn't appear to improve his eyesight as he was speaking to a wall with rapt attention.

"We're over here your honor," Hermione said motioning with her hand for the man to turn.

He didn't appear to hear her at all and reached into his robes to pull out a very worn and laced bound book. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered…"

"No your honor we're over here," Hermione said again a bit more loudly turning to glare at Malfoy who was still lounging against a wall unhurried and not making any attempt to stand at her side.

Neville bit his lip nervously and gently turned the judge to face Hermione who was trying to frown Malfoy into complying in coming forward. "Here they are your honor. They're right in front of you."

Deciding he had made her wait a sufficient amount of time Malfoy indolently strolled forward wondering if the old man had the fortitude to actually complete the ceremony or if they were wasting their time. Hermione was getting more flustered by the second and Neville was positively chomping at the bit to have the papers signed, the vows spoken, and the matter done and over with.

"Oh, there you are dear thing," the judge crooned at Hermione then, but he still didn't see her, except Hermione didn't think he did.

With Malfoy finally deigning to join her before the judge the old man proceeded once more. "Dearly beloved we are gathered here today…"

Things went rather smoothly until he came to the names of the respective groom and bride. "Do you Dru, Draven, Dra…"

"Draco," Malfoy answered tersely wondering at Longbottom's sanity and where he'd found such a doddering old fool.

"Quite right Drago, and what ah, yes that last name Malvern, Malfan,…"

"Malfoy," both Malfoy and Hermione bellowed simultaneously so the man jumped slightly at their rude tone.

"Yes well there's no need to shout," the judge admonished them harshly but when he looked over his book to issue the retort his watery gaze fell on the side of the wall.

Finally he came to asking Hermione if she would say her vows and after a few mispronunciations of her own name he stated they were man and wife closing his worn book with a resounding clap. "Now you may kiss your bride Dragan," he said happily as though he'd just performed a service for a loving and eager couple.

It had been the longest ten minutes of her life but at least the hard part was over and she didn't know if she wanted to sit down and laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. "Well be about it young man, don't keep the lass waiting," the old man urged but motioned again toward thin air still not having totally managed to focus on Hermione or Malfoy's true place in the room.

She didn't dare look at Malfoy and impulsively she turned to Neville knowing the old man wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyway. Planting a kiss on her surprised friend's lips the old judge nodded his approval while Neville just stared at her in shock. "Now is that all you needed Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes, your honor you've been a tremendous help," Neville said taking the man's arm to lead him from the room.

"Now I don't know why but Hermione is of the opinion that you will actually behave yourself tonight and might, just might act honorably. I on the other hand know you haven't changed a bit and will be just beyond this door. As soon as you've finished dinner I'll bring the certificate and you both sign it, I'll sign as a witness, and that's that," Neville said nearly out the door.

"One last look at the city Neville," Hermione acknowledged under her breath taking a much needed respite in one of the chairs at the table.

"Oh, yes there is that," Neville allowed but had hoped to avoid that particular part of Hermione and Malfoy's bargain. He didn't trust his prisoner to maintain his docile attitude forever and didn't trust him to treat his friend humanely if he was left alone with her for very long.

Neville took the confused judge out of the room and just as soon as the pair had exited a small chipper elf bounded in with what Hermione could only assume was whatever Neville had permitted Malfoy to order. He peered dubiously at Malfoy for a moment then looked to Hermione waiting for payment and a tip. Obligingly she offered him the precise galleons he requested and then Neville appeared briefly to remove the tiny creature from their presence. Hermione distinctly hoped he remembered to cast a memory charm on the poor little thing, as she wouldn't want him involved in this chaotic event in any way.

"I do believe I expressed that I wished to dine out not sit in a shack and have food delivered to me," Malfoy finally complained but he was already removing the wrapping and laying out the dinnerware that came with the meal.

"Did you expect Neville to let you waltz around London without a care in the world. Really you're lucky I'm paying for that at all. Honestly escargo and some kind of duck pudding? Who can find that remotely appetizing?" she criticized more for the price of the food than his choice itself.

"More refined tastes Granger, more refined tastes," was all he mumbled too hungry to care if she picked and prodded at him.

Hermione hadn't ordered anything except a small sandwich for herself. Even that didn't appeal to her while her mind was in such a frantic state. She had actually done it, Hermione Granger had actually committed a heinous crime in aiding and abetting a criminal, if but for a short time, from the Ministry office and marrying him above all else. The elves and your research will benefit, she told herself over and over again, before stealing a glance at her husband to see if he was actually enjoying the expensive dish he'd ordered.

He was devouring it as though he'd never seen a plate a food, very unlike him. She didn't think she ever remembered him being almost uncouth at the dinner table. Above all else he had practiced impeccable manners, now he appeared starved. "Should we have gotten you something else? I didn't know how much of something that 'refined' you could eat."  
"Not all of us are able to eat whenever we want and know when our next meal will be," he snarled before he thought better of it. Had he just actually made himself a bit pitiful in her eyes?

"Oh don't be ridiculous the Ministry is excellent at making sure even their most notorious criminals are cared for," Hermione dismissed his claim with a wave of her hand. True, Percy was rather strict almost to a point of being considered far too eager, but it was his ambition and hope to purge the Wizarding World of the remaining Death Eaters.

"That is what you wish to think or perhaps you do believe it. Either way you're wrong in assuming they don't employ certain means of persuasion," he alluded still not letting his attention be drawn from the food.

Hermione frowned then for there were times Neville had mentioned to her that he did not agree with Percy Weasley in one manner or another. She had just thought it was Neville's sometimes tender feelings that clouded his vision as far as Percy was concerned. Was there more to it however? Neville never really did find fault with someone without cause. "When was the last time you had something to eat?" she asked cautiously fully expecting him to hurl something at her in retort to change the subject.

"The night before you came actually," he answered truthfully before shoving in another mouthful.

Unable to contain a gasp of horror Hermione remembered it had been two full days since her visit. What did it matter if he at least had three decent meals a day? They had issued his punishment why make his last days so miserable? "Oh, I didn't know, I'm sorry. Here I'm not hungry you can have this," she quickly unwrapped her small sandwich and gingerly sat it near his plate.

He did pause then gazing at her as though seeing her for the first time. "Don't you dare start feeling sorry for me do you hear!" he hissed some of his arrogance and haughtiness coming to the surface to mask any weaker emotions.

"I'd feel sorry for anyone who hadn't been allowed to eat. That's just common procedure from what I understand three meals a day for each prisoner no exceptions. The Ministry isn't supposed to torture people in that manner and I do believe I will be mentioning this to Neville when this is over," she nodded resolutely wishing now she had ordered something more. She didn't like Malfoy, but it was beyond cruel to starve someone without good cause. Truly Percy was going to the extreme.

"Neville has already wasted his breath with that strutting prick Weasel on numerous occasions, and to no avail. Don't waste your time with it Granger. I don't have much of it left either so I'd rather not discuss the finer points of Ministry incarceration if you don't mind."

Reluctantly Hermione fell silent but curiosity ate at her until she couldn't be still. "I'm not all that sure that you're deserving of that punishment. Death I mean. Crabbe and Goyle lied through their crooked teeth if you ask me," she said unable to drop the matter.

"Well then I'm deeply sorry you weren't the judge officiating that day," he drawled pausing to twirl his fork in the last of the snails. "Who knows they might have truly believed what they were saying, and their fathers were instrumental in securing their early release from Azkaban. Someone had to be guilty, I didn't have anyone ready to defend me, so here we are."

"I'm sure you're not totally innocent, rather I know you're far from it. Still it was Snape who murdered the headmaster and I think if more witnesses were called they would have discovered that it was Crabbe's father who lead that attack on Muggle London," she concluded not knowing where this sudden defense was coming from. Actually she just didn't like to see injustice. As she had said to herself before it was not fair that Malfoy take the fall at such a young age for crimes committed by his father and his counterparts.

"Somewhere in there I think you actually didn't insult me," he smirked if only slightly.

"The sandwich was supposed to be hot," she changed the subject quickly very uneasy where it was leading. She didn't need to feel sympathy for Malfoy. If she let herself grow weak in that respect she wouldn't be able to survive the rest of the evening. "You had better eat it soon."

They both fell silent for a long while and did not speak again until Neville reappeared with the papers he had promised. Both signed the certificate quickly and without much enthusiasm, but all the same the deed was done. Tomorrow Neville and Hermione would deliver the paper to June's barrister and the matter would be settled.

"It's starting to rain somewhat, perhaps we'd best call it an evening," Neville suggested knowing it was probably futile but wanting to try and dissuade the outing just the same.

"Neville I made a bargain and I intend to keep it. One carriage ride through the city won't matter, besides there are some things I would like to discuss with you later. I'm not sure about the treatment of prisoners and…" Hermione began standing and adjusted her robes slightly.

"I don't want to hear it Mione'," Neville held up a hand of peace. "You know Percy's climbing the ladder at the Ministry so to speak and he's being a regular git about it at times, but he is getting the job done."

"Neville what about the conditions for prisoners, the way they're interrogated and the way that…"

"Enough I mean it now lets get this over and done with. Malfoy I'm still going to be only a few steps away," Neville cautioned leveling the intended recipient of his warning with a steely glare.

"I tremble under the overwhelming regard that is your authority," Malfoy rolled his eyes and said with aggravation.

The air had not cooled at all despite the rain that now fell steadily down. Climbing into the carriage Hermione wondered at her sanity again because of the close quarters she would share with her enemy, now husband. The lead bracelets were still securely linked around his wrists so she settled her nerves somewhat in that instance. Also he hadn't been overly difficult and to his credit he'd been very disciplined when they had dealt with the aging judge. The poor old man had raked her nerves raw as well.

Neville tapped on the top of the carriage once before they took off letting Malfoy know of his presence. Even Hermione drew her eyes upward and shook her head at his persistence. She heard Malfoy sigh in the seat opposite her however growing more impatient with Neville's threats by the minute. "He only means well. If he were in a similar situation I would do the same to protect him."

"What do you need protecting from?" Malfoy asked her quietly his voice taking on an inflection that Hermione did not understand.

"Nothing really, you're quite secure in your lead manacles and I'm seated a good distance from you. I doubt you'll try anything unseemly," she assured him straightening her back and settling in for the long ride ahead. "I suggest you pay attention to the sights, Neville is only giving you one hour."

He didn't respond to her statement and quietly shifted his gaze to the misty air and passing buildings. A few minutes went by in silence and Hermione decided that perhaps this wasn't such a bad thing. He hadn't once mentioned the latter part of their agreement and he didn't appear inclined to do so. He had just been teasing her, trying to unnerve her as he had when they were children. Finally he'd come to his senses and realized how mad he had sounded in putting forth such a request.

The atmosphere in the carriage was getting more than stuffy and Hermione found her robes hot and confining. Peering over toward Malfoy again he was serenely watching outside seemingly oblivious to her. For a moment she thought not to do it but when another wave of heat washed over her she frowned to herself and began to unclasp the cumbersome garment.

Tossing her robe to the seat beside her Hermione adjusted the dress securing the tie at the back of her neck that held the top in place. Feeling much better she missed the covert assessing stare that fell on her before the one studying her turned away a faint grin playing on his lips.

Returning his silvery gaze to the increasing clouds in the sky he realized it was a poor night to make a run for it in London. He'd be soaked through by morning. Overhead thunder rolled and it was almost as though the skies mocked him in his attempt to gain his freedom.

A few more minutes passed and Hermione felt suddenly anxious, not herself. She was getting a slight headache and began to rub her temples. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Malfoy shifting in his seat a strange frown on his face almost like determination. The sensation ebbed slowly as she massaged her forehead next and she was at peace again. It was probably the rain giving her a headache. Such dreary weather always wreaked havoc with her system. If only it wasn't so dreadfully hot.

"Gods, but you're strong minded. It took me all of ten minutes to overtake even the head Weasel at the Ministry," Malfoy spoke abruptly turning a strangely appreciative gaze upon her.

Hermione's eyes widened in horror then as Neville's warning rang back to her. Strange mental abilities, had he gone so far as to perfect his skills in Occlumency and Legilimancy that he could insinuate thoughts and emotions into ones subconscious? She noticed that her headache had vanished and she was not as hot, far from it. Rather there was a distinct chill running down her spine.

Her eyes shifted to her robe containing her wand but he guessed her intent and lunged for her first pinning her against the seat. The robe was thrown carelessly behind them after he had retrieved the object she searched for. "Now is this what you were looking for?" he asked too innocently waving it in front of her face.

Bucking beneath his crushing weight she opened her mouth to scream knowing Neville would be upon them in a second and she would be saved. A large hand covered her mouth then silencing any cries while she watched with shock and a mixture of fear as he muttered something under his breath and the manacles fell to the floor. Wandless magic! Why had Neville not told her?  
"Because Longbottom doesn't know," he answered infuriating and frightening her all the more.


	3. Meeting the Terms

_**Author's Note:** All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc . Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very appreciated! Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_I apologize for the lack of updates. The story is also being posted on and I wanted to catch up with chapters there before posting here. Also, I'm in the process of acquiring a beta and correcting glaring errors and such. So, no this story isn't forgotten, it's actually just about 5 or 6 chapters from being finished!_

_Thanks for the patience and support._

_Celtic_

Chapter 3

Meeting the Terms

With a flick of his wrist he waved the wand again placing a charm of silence on the carriage. "Now I think that will sufficiently keep Longbottom from interrupting us for awhile," he stated with finality as he snapped her wand in half.

He removed his hand from her mouth expecting her to scream like most women would, probably loudly enough to drive him insane. She didn't however. Instead she just glared at him wrathfully. "You're breaking your word to behave properly," she spat back at him with teeth clenched.

"No, I'm seeing to it that you don't break yours," he answered coolly somewhat impressed that she wasn't giving into hysterics. Then again, she had always been a little too brave for her own good. He had known one day she was going to rush headlong into something that she couldn't get herself out of. Tonight she'd done just that. There was nothing that was going to persuade him to let her forgo the entirety of their bargain.

"Why don't you just escape? That is your plan isn't it?" Hermione tried to shift her body again to ease the pressure as he pressed her firmly against the seat. She didn't feel as though she could breath and didn't like the notion of him so close and lying nearly on top of her.

"Eventually, but there is the bargain. You haven't fulfilled all of the terms," he did smile then and she wanted to scream and beg for him to cease in thinking she would let him take such liberties.

"You can't be serious. What about all of your strict rules of society? Won't you be lowering yourself a bit too much if you actually try and…" she suddenly couldn't finish finding the words all wrong when thinking about such a thing concerning Malfoy. Gods, she was going to literally scream at Neville until he was good and deaf for not warning her or being aware of Malfoy's devious abilities.

"Fuck you," he finished for her crudely finding it not as satisfying as he thought he would when she blanched at the coarseness of his statement.

There was no denying it now, he did want her and it really didn't matter her heritage or background at the moment. When she had walked into the cell with Longbottom he had been prepared to feel the same malice and resentment as he always had when she was near. Instead the first pleasant scent he'd been graced with in longer than he could remember had caught his attention, Gardenias and lemons. Her feminine voice was additionally appealing as the few witches who had interrogated him at the Ministry were low speaking and very gruff. He doubted their gender at times with their tight-lipped frowns and severe features. Also, when he had powerfully suggested that she was warm enough to remove her robes she had revealed rather delicate looking skin, probably very soft. It had been quite sometime since he'd touched a woman and at this point any attractive female pureblooded, half-blooded, mudblooded or other otherwise would do.

"Forgive me, perhaps you would prefer the term making love?" he asked daring her to respond to him any way. Having a speechless Granger staring back at him was not something he was accustomed to and it was delightful.

"I would prefer it if you would kindly remove yourself to your own seat," she gritted out growing more uncomfortable by the moment. Soon she would be blushing at such intimate contact and it would only amuse him more.

"This doesn't have to be so terrible if you think about it," he shrugged finding it to some extent arousing as her skin turned a dusky shade of pink while a deep blush spread from her face and down her neck. Her chest was heaving too from her anxiousness and it caused her breasts to strain against the silky material of the dress she had worn.

"If I beg you to leave me alone, confess that you win this battle, and let you escape will you finally admit that you're simply trying to humiliate me in some vile way?" There, if she humbled herself he'd be appeased and would jump from the carriage. She wouldn't have to worry about him again. The Ministry would catch him and dispose of him immediately for his escape attempt and no one would ever know of their business arrangement.

Malfoy leaned back and studied her for a long moment. She was terrified and desperate to rid herself of him. Well, in her defense he had never been particularly pleasant to her in all of the years they had known one another so she naturally expected the worst now. What did he expect of himself? If she fought him would he force himself on her? Had he been without such comforts for so long that he wasn't capable of controlling himself? "We made a deal and I expect you to hold to it. I've been locked away for a long time Granger. Did you really think after you swore to honor the terms I set down that I wouldn't expect you to keep your word?"

There was nothing mocking or false about his intentions and she knew he meant every word he said. Why had she agreed to such a thing and not suspected he might be more devious than she already knew him to be. "Neville will make certain you're punished for this," she warned but without much strength in her threat.

"Longbottom doesn't concern me right now. Besides it's not a legal marriage until its consummated. I suppose it would be terribly inconvenient for you if I were to go back and reveal to the Ministry Weasel that you'd helped Longbottom slip me out of my cell. Then you proceeded to marry me just to fulfill the stipulations of some will," he trailed off looking thoughtfully out the window.

"There's no one to say the marriage wasn't consummated. No one has to know the real nature of our arrangement," she defended heatedly but drew in a sharp breath when he returned his gaze to stare down at her intently while reaching up to undo the plastic clip holding her hair off of her neck.

"I would say the marriage wasn't consummated," he assured her though his attention was elsewhere. When had she acquired such soft sleek hair? It also glowed when the lightening streaked the sky and illuminated the inside of the carriage.

There was something soothing about the way he was slowly untangling her hair and smoothing it down her back that unnerved more than if he had been rough and forceful. "You won't reconsider?" she inquired stiffening when she felt his fingers pulling on the knot of fabric at her neck.

Ignoring her question briefly he tugged at the intricate loop until the material loosened and gave way. The dress fell away, the silky garment sliding effortlessly over her skin into a crumpled heap at her waist. She cringed in trepidation as her breasts were exposed to his increasingly heated silvery gaze. While he stared raking her with a purely sensual regard he drew in a deep uneven breath before shaking his head. "No, I don't believe I'm going to reconsider."

As if in a daze she watched him lower his head gasping when she felt searing lips eagerly roaming over her bare skin. Suddenly he drew back relieving her of some of his weight. Wondering if he might be thinking of changing his mind Hermione made a motion to push herself up in the seat and out of his reach. He was much quicker and of a different purpose gently but firmly pulling her from the seat and easing her to the floor of the carriage.

Barely feeling the rough surface of the carpet on her back Hermione was mysteriously fascinated by the display of emotions that plainly shown on his face. Normally so withdraw or sneering, undisguised hunger and wanting were apparent in the depths of his eyes and in the determined set of his jaw. No one had ever looked at her in such a raw and demanding manner and despite her apprehension and better sense telling her to ignore him and simply meet the terms of the bargain, something deep within her responded. Some primal feminine urge shot through her causing her to feel triumphant that she could garner such a reaction from someone so normally reserved and aloof.

"Somewhere along the way Granger you grew up," he said before coming toward her again this time to snatch her breath with an unexpectedly tormenting kiss.

Surely he was trying to devour her whole as many times as he slanted his mouth over her own again and again never giving her a moment's peace. Dimly she was aware of his hand stealing beneath her dress to push it farther up her thighs. Then he was tugging her underwear downward momentarily leaning back to ease them from around her ankles only to rise above her again this time taking one of her nipples in his mouth. Instantaneously without her own volition the peak hardened and when he grazed the taut flesh with his teeth she actually arched against him only managing to bit her lip in time before crying out with what she desperately wanted to disregard as pleasure.

His hands were between her legs again gently searching and teasing. This time she did gasp and jerk wildly and she thought she felt him smile against her skin. Two fingers slipped deep inside of her and she convulsed slightly at the newfound sensation. This was wrong even if she had made a bargain and always kept her word despite the consequences. Yet, her intention to voice her objections died in her throat when his mouth took possession of her own his tongue sweeping in and skillfully tasting and conquering in a way no one had ever dared.

Frantically he began to unfasten his pants relieving himself of the final barrier that kept him from his goal. It was a pity there wasn't time for a more leisurely seduction as she was responding to him and he had not expected her to do so. That couldn't matter now. Unrelentingly he parted her thighs unable to wait, months of abstinence and thinking he might never feel the softness of a woman's body again inciting him to seek an end to his torture.

The languid burning pleasure that had slowly seeped throughout her body fled instantly as he thrust into her without warning. Crying out at the pain as her flesh ripped and stretched trying to accommodate the new sensation of being invaded so brusquely, she realized her error in thinking he could have proven to be anything but a brutish bastard. There was nothing else she could do except wait until this portion of their deal had been satisfied. She could berate herself later for her fate of losing her virginity in the most humiliating circumstances imaginable.

Malfoy froze and stared down in shock not fully believing, but knowing the truth all the same. He'd met with resistance before embedding himself deep within her and she was no longer yielding and pliable beneath him. She was rigid and taking in shallow breaths as though she were in pain. "Granger, you should have said something," he growled turning his own mistake for not thinking it might be the case that she was a virgin into the fault lying with her.

"Just be about it," she impatiently snapped finding it odd he was halting in his progress at all and remotely cared that he had just savagely rid her of the last shred of girlish innocence.

Glaring at her he did not stir above her for some time instead he leaned forward and actually traced the outline of her jaw with light kisses before settling on her mouth overwhelming her once more. Her mind ceased to focus on the discomfort that was indeed fading and more importantly on why he was going out of his way to appear in the least bit concerned. Only then did it reach her consciousness that he was no longer motionless, in fact he was moving rapidly drawing in deep gasping breaths that echoed harshly in her ear when he tore his mouth from hers and buried his face in her hair.

Just when the sensations were beginning to turn pleasant again he shuddered above her and groaned loudly. Staying stock-still as though suspended in time he just as abruptly the next moment collapsed over her trying to slow his breathing. Recognizing there was nothing more to the act Hermione took a deep breath of her own feeling foolish and strangely disappointed. Was that all there was to it then? No wonder she hadn't been tempted to give in to anyone before.

Lazily Malfoy raised himself up on his elbows to peer down at his wife. Oddly those words didn't sound nearly as distasteful as he once thought they would. Marriage might have been enjoyable maybe, if he had been given the chance. Of course not with Granger, but with someone of his choosing, someone worthy of him and his status in society.

What status he thought to himself bitterly? That of condemned murdered soon to be put to death? Well no longer to be put to death as he was moments away from securing his freedom once more. Still wearing a thoughtful frown he wondered why Granger hadn't protested more if she had never been openly intimate with a man before, but that was her way, confusing and infuriating all at once.

The rain that had been falling steadily now pounded on the top of the carriage slashing against the windows in its fury. The thunder had grown more threatening and the lightening fiercer. It was time for the evening to draw to a close and Hermione feeling very out of sorts and thoroughly distraught could not be more grateful.

He was staring at her again, studying her like she was a mystery that both intrigued and angered him. His eyes were too severe and she kept trying to focus on anything but him. "The bargain is met," she whispered finally still feeling his unyielding gaze fixed on her features.

"So it is," he whispered so softly it surprised her at his gentle tone and she turned her eyes to meet his.

This was it for him she realized, somewhat sympathetically. Even if he did manage to escape for the evening the Aurors would find him by morning. Things would not go well for him. Again, she knew he was a criminal but somehow instinctively she did not believe him to be a murderer. The ones responsible for the most reprehensible crimes had already been released or pardoned. Men like Malfoy and even lesser wizards were shouldering the blame for the ones who held more influence and had possessed larger sums of money. For that space of time the injustice of it all, that someone so young should be judged so unfairly struck a chord in her heart. As if she could relieve the worry and apprehension he must face at knowing his life would soon end she reached up without thinking and stroked his brow pushing a lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes to the side.

Jerking from her as though her touch was fire or poison his gaze clouded into bewilderment and some anger. She was feeling sorry for him again and he hated it, hated her for thinking she could even begin to understand the agony of what his life had become. Then again, what did it hurt to let her touch him as an act of kindness? It might well be the last time anyone touched him in such a way again. Recklessly deciding to steal one last kiss just to further commit to memory what a woman smelled like, tasted like, Malfoy gradually leaned in. He waited to see if she would shrink away from him in disgust. She did not and nearly the same second is lips would have met hers the carriage stopped and the door was ripped open.

"Dreadfully sorry Malfoy, but the evening's being cut a tad short. Storm's much too dangerous to keep…" Neville's voice rang out above the fury of the tempest without.

Vengefully Malfoy's head shot up rage building inside of him at being so insolently interrupted. He sighed in defeat and ire as Neville's eyes widened first in shock and disappointment. Then the Auror's face contorted into a black wrathful mask. "Malfoy, Gods I warned you!" he bellowed to be heard above the raging storm that was pelting rain down on him and now into the carriage.

The sodding fool didn't realize he was letting the downpour nearly drown his friend while he stood glaring and puffing up with indignant resentment Malfoy decided. Tightly grasping Hermione's wrists he lifted her back into her seat. Quickly he tossed her discarded robe across her shoulders effectively hiding her from Neville's wide eyed stare. Something did not feel right in just letting Longbottom gape at Granger so openly.

Recovering from his astonishment Neville burst into the carriage barely allowing his prisoner the time to right his own clothing. Noticing that Malfoy had managed to rid himself of his charmed manacles Neville pointed his wand directly at his chest. "I wouldn't recommend you to try anything else rash."

"Neville now, wait," Hermione stated quietly readjusting her robes and pulling down her dress feeling vulnerable and tainted in her friend's eyes now.

"Will you come along peacefully or do we have to drag you away like before," Neville asked remembering the day he had helped capture Malfoy. He had been in remarkably good physical and mental condition for someone who had been living on scraps and whatever else he could find on the streets while in hiding. Neville didn't doubt he would make bringing him back to the Ministry difficult now.

"I don't believe I'll be going anywhere at all," Malfoy rejoined daring Neville to make good his threats.

_"Stupefy,"_ Neville said above the rising winds of the storm.

The spell had only a minimal affect but it did bring Malfoy to his knees if but briefly. Suddenly Neville was throwing spell after spell at his prisoner until Malfoy was subdued, his arms now bound behind him with an incarceration spell. Still fighting to maintain his balance and against the affects of the spells Malfoy threw a malicious glare at Neville before managing to rise to his feet.

Hermione sat in the seat not certain if she should try and stay Neville's fury or not. Malfoy was growing more dangerous by the second and if she had her own wand she would no doubt be trying to help Neville subdue him. "Draco, don't fight him. He'll hurt you more if he has to," she pleaded knowing if she just spoke up now Neville would surely not be so harsh with him. She had made the bargain and she had seen it through.

Malfoy went very still and shrewdly assessed her an unfathomable emotion flickering in his eyes. Throwing Neville a sideways glance he stood his ground unsteadily. When he thought that Neville was secure in assuming he was going to surrender willingly he lunged at his wife seizing her lips in a kiss that was brutal in its force. No longer gentle he ignored the livid cry from Longbottom grazing her bottom lip with his teeth until he tasted blood.

Growling and struggling from pent up rage and the madness of a man knowing he is doomed to a hopeless fate Malfoy did not make it easy for his jailer when he pulled him away from Hermione. In the end Neville rendered him unconscious. Drawing in a deep breath Neville glanced at his friend still sitting in the carriage looking bemused and remorseful. "We've stopped at your flat Mione'" Neville said gently. "Go ahead and get inside before you're drenched to the bone and I'll see Malfoy's taken back to the Ministry. There's no need to explain, I understand. If you want I can see that he's shipped to Azkaban in the morning."  
Coming to her feet Hermione stepped from the carriage trying to avoid the prone form of Malfoy positioned in the opposite seat. "No Neville, I'll tell you everything later, and he'll be going to Azkaban soon enough. Don't do anything hasty."

That said she rushed out into the night and up to the apartment entrance. Flinging the doors open she ran up the winding stairs until she reached her flat promptly hurling herself inside and locking the door behind her. Catching her breath she numbly went to perch on her sofa and reached out to grab a book from the coffee table. Only faintly aware of the prose of the novel she eventually slipped into a fitful sleep where silver eyes haunted her dreams until morning.


	4. Nothing Ever Proceeds as Planned

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 4

Nothing Ever Proceeds as Planned

1 year later

"Have you seen this nonsense?" Ronald Weasley asked between bites of an apple while perusing the front page of the Daily Prophet. His blue eyes were narrowed in a disgusted glare and he ran a hand through his fire red hair after a bit in disbelief. "Bloody pardoning Death Eaters and the like in exchange for labor."

Hermione nodded absently only halfway paying him any attention. If she could just finish this incantation she knew she would have another successful counter spell to the hex for blindness. The words just weren't flowing properly, but a few more moments and she would have it just right. A loud clanging over the door to the shop signaled another patron and grimacing at the interruption she put her papers aside.

A frail looking little house elf tiptoed up to her counter glancing about fearfully. "This is the right place yes? Place where Miss Granger help elves?" it inquired almost near tears that it might be mistaken.

Discreetly Hermione let her gaze travel around the shop before nodding toward Fred Weasley on the other side. Returning the gesture he made it his business to occupy the two rather observant witches at the corner of the store he shared with his twin George. They really didn't fit in wearing rather expensive robes and turning up their nose at every magical object and trinket they saw. It would make Hermione feel easier if Fred held their attention while she conversed with the frightened little elf.

"Would you like to see some of the chocolates just imported from Switzerland?" she asked offhandedly. "A new assortment was shipped just the day before yesterday."

Relaxing somewhat the tiny creature enthusiastically bobbed his head and followed her around the counter. Ron took Hermione's place behind the counter and greeted the next patron without a second thought. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary and a few minutes later Hermione emerged again, except the elf was nowhere to be seen.

"All taken care of?" Ron asked under his breath keeping the two witches, now arguing with his brother over the price of a trick broom, in his line of vision.

"Yes, George is setting the dear little thing up with some galleons and finishing with the last of the paperwork to legally request his release," Hermione answered quietly smiling at the two women who had finally grown tired of Fred's zealous salesman approach and were huffing out of the store.

"Didn't think you'd actually get this society of yours off the ground," Ron said with obvious pride. If anything his friend was determined to accomplish whatever task she set out for herself.

"Well I can't say for certain how successful it is if the more prominent families are fighting me as firmly as ever," she sighed wishing that the simple concept of paying someone for a decent days work wasn't so foreign to some pureblooded families.

"They've just got their silk knickers twisted a bit and don't like admitting that change is coming. Eventually they'll have to admit it was needed for a long time," Ron shrugged knowing full well she meant the Goyle and the Crabbe families of the world still clinging to the old ways.

"At least my research is coming along nicely," she smiled brightly feeling much better when talking about applying knowledge and her progress in the areas of spells.

"Still wish you had let us in on the secret sooner. Would've liked to have met the man charming enough to finally get you to say yes." Ron cast a sideways glance toward her wondering when or if she'd ever get around to opening up more about her secret wedding. Sometimes he wondered if she'd just made the entire thing up to secure the money for her research and the society. Then again, that wasn't how Hermione went about things. If anything she was honest to a fault even going so far as to incriminate herself if need be. There had been a gentleman involved but she'd been very tight lipped as to who he was and why he'd died so suddenly.

As it always did when Ron, Harry, Ginny, any of her friends for that matter questioned her about her hasty and brief marriage she grew silent. Only Neville knew the truth of it all, the entire ghastly tale, all of the terms she had to satisfy to ensure her groom's cooperation. The only thing that eased her fears about the affair being uncovered was knowing Neville had placed the Ministry copy of the certificate in a folder and charmed the document so only he could read the contents therein.

He had given Malfoy the other certificate and he would have had it stashed on his body somewhere when he was executed. The most vicious of criminals were sometimes disintegrated and though to this day she did not think Malfoy deserving of such a sentence she was grateful that with such a violent end he had not suffered and all evidence of that night long ago would have died with him.

"Ron I just don't like to talk about," she whispered hoping to sound distraught so that he had decided to bring the topic up yet again. "I told you about the train wreck and you all saw it on the news. It was horrible so can we please just not discuss it? His death was traumatic and I would rather not relive it is all." That much was true. Her conscience had berated her for ever thinking it could be morally sound to marry a man condemned to death just to have an end to her own means. Even though it had been for a decent cause she knew she should have looked harder for a solution, contested the will, anything.

Then there was the matter of the terms that she had fulfilled to complete the bargain. At the time she had told herself if was only a small price to pay and had fully expected to feel nothing afterward. That was not the case and there were times at night she would wake up gasping and crying at how utterly foolish she had been. Sometimes she imagined that Neville also looked at her differently for her decision to uphold the bargain to the fullest extent. Surely it was just her mind playing tricks on her, her guilt taking hold of her in weaker moments.

"Mione' I know you don't like to talk about it, but really you should you know," Ron pressed gently truly believing that a nice long discussion on the subject would help her immensely.

"Ron, I just got another client and I'm really overdue with these notes on some of the spells I've been working on. I promise when things slow down a bit we'll talk more all right?" she pleaded turning brown eyes to him that almost looked to be sparkling with tears.

Never able to upset her or push when she didn't want to open up any further Ron relented and patted her hand affectionately. "Just remember whenever you're finally ready I'll be here to listen."

Offering him a genuine smile of fondness she squeezed his hand in return. "I promise when it's easier and I can stand to talk about it I'll come to you."

They shared a brief hug then Ron not convinced that that she was as capable of dealing with such a heavy burden on her own and Hermione sighing inwardly with relief that she had avoided the topic yet another time. Of course she hadn't seen Harry in a good month as he was away with Ginny on holiday and he was always watching her with an odd note of pity in his gaze. He was careful of his words around her as if she might break. It was endearing and annoying all at once.

The door of the shop opened once more the bells jingling overhead. Hermione heard Ron groan with irritation and stiffen as they pulled away from each other. "Why the bloody hell can't he keep his prat self at the Ministry?" he whispered under his breath watching his one of his elder brothers strolling into the shop.

"Ron, be nice," Hermione warned but understood Ron's attitude with no doubt. Percy Weasley was haughty, shrewd, and without question dull and predictable to a fault. His features added to those qualities with piercing blue green eyes and sharp angled nose and mouth. The only thing that could help Hermione distinguish him as a Weasley was his red hair, not as fiery as Ron and Ginny's, but a definite trait nonetheless. If anything Malfoy had told her were true, he was also possessed of a streak of cruelty if it gained him the information he wanted.

"Ronald, Miss Granger," Percy nodded politely inclining his head as he stopped behind the counter.

His brief show of a smile as he greeted them disappeared instantly. "Honestly Ronald, I know Mother would be appalled that you've yet to form any sort of manners to draw upon in public. Do try and keep your food in your mouth from now on. It looks positively uncouth."

Hermione elbowed Ron in the side behind the counter signaling him to let the insult slide. Percy was very highly ranked in the Ministry still, Junior Assistant to the Minister. There were whispers that in the next election Percy might be favored to win the position of Minister of Magic himself. For her friend's sake she hoped that if Percy did win such an honor he wouldn't make his brothers and sister too terribly miserable in his triumph.

"Good to see you Mr. Weasley," Hermione smiled while Ron brushed bits of apple from his robes scowling at his brother wrathfully.

"Oh I would like it if you wouldn't be so formal Miss Granger. You may call me Percy," he smiled again his past annoyance with Ron forgotten. "As I would hope I might be able to address you by your own given name."

Ron's scowl to turned to shock then horror. Had his brother just casually been kind to Hermione? There was definitely a certain chill in the vicinity of hell for sure.

Taken aback at Percy's decidedly agreeable mood Hermione could only nod in bemusement. "Very well, Percy, I see no reason why we shouldn't drop some of the formalities. Yet, what brings you here? From what I understand you've a full schedule now at the Ministry."

"Actually nothing pleasant really," his mouth tensed into a set frown and his sharp features were drawn even more tightly. "I'm sure you've heard of this nonsense of allowing prisoners a chance at rehabilitation? That rubbish they've been printing in the Prophet is all true I'm afraid, implementing the old practice of Indentured Service. They'll regret it, but the Minister's so concerned with how young most of the prisoner's were when they were sentenced. He's even going so far as to wonder if in all the chaos they got fair trials." Percy snorted then as if it was the most distasteful thing he'd ever spoken of.

"Perhaps the Minister is just trying to sort out some of the confusion that took place after the war ended," Hermione suggested trying to ignore the first twinges of anger. There was still a part of her that was convinced there had been underhanded forces at work during some of the trials and sentences for crimes.

"Oh, Hermione, you'd see the good in anybody really I think," he smiled placating her with an amused tone. "Be careful that you don't let that particular trait get you into trouble someday."

"The reason for your visit," Ron intoned trying to hurry his brother along so he would just leave them in peace.

"Yes, well Hermione I know how determined you've been to help those charming little elves and I wondered if you've be of a mind to help me out as well? A rather large group of prisoners were just transported back to the Ministry this morning and we haven't got the room you see to hold them all. They were offered the chance to forfeit their sentences and enter into a contract with any witch or wizard willing to pay a sum of money to the Ministry for their services. Most are committed to seven years of servitude and I know you're only days away from opening your own second hand stop down the street. Perhaps you could use the help?" Percy inquired raising a red brow of superiority.

The last thing Hermione needed was another encounter with any more prisoners. Her first impulse was to flatly refuse. She was curious however as to what would happen if they weren't placed in the home of another wizard. "Percy," she started having trouble saying his name with such familiarity, "If no one agrees to take these men and women in what will happen them?"

A deep seeded satisfaction graced his features then and a glimmer of pleasure radiated from his eyes. "They'll be shipped back to Azkaban and their case reviewed most likely ending in execution. No better than they deserve."

Hermione blanched at how callous Percy could be about the subject, but he was used to dealing with more uncivilized witches and wizards. He might have his reasons for such malice and hatred. "How much does the Ministry expect one to pay for an Indentured Servant?"

It was Hermione's turn to receive a gaze of shock and disbelief from Ron. "Mione' you can't be seriously considering…"

"They're asking for around eighteen thousand galleons a prisoner. Fair enough I think," Percy answered with a shrug. "So would you consider it?"

"Yes Percy I'll do it. I can have the money sent to the Ministry tomorrow is that soon enough?" Hermione straightened the papers on the counter and came around to stand before Percy.

"Perfect, I will expect you tomorrow then?"

"No, I'm not sure I could make the time to come to the Ministry myself, but if you could choose anyone you want. One you think might be worthy of a second chance and be willing to work, then I'm sure I'll approve," she said quickly not wanting to go about the task of picking through men and women all ready to sneer and spit in her face. The thought of being near any prisoner again unnerved her, but the notion she had been offered the chance to help one and then balked at the opportunity upset her even more. What if she refused to allow someone a fresh start and they were executed unfairly. She couldn't live with anything further on her conscience.

"I suppose that wouldn't be a problem. I could have them report to you tomorrow morning. Will you be here at this," he rolled his eyes above taking in the shop with obvious contempt, "establishment or will you be working in your own shop?"

"My own shop, and tomorrow morning would be fine," she nodded hastily extending her hand to seal their agreement.

Percy took her hand and held it firmly longer than was necessary she thought but released her after a time. "Thank you Hermione. That is one less worry to contend with. I hope you don't regret your decision. Be assured they will be properly secured with charmed wristbands and incapable of performing magic in any sense. You needn't worry about them getting hold of a wand and making an escape or turning against you," he guaranteed her before turning to leave. "Ronald, I know you've yet to decide about a career of any nature, but it would not hurt you either to try and help the cause. You know Father and Mother are frantic for you to make up your mind about that job I offered you at the Ministry."

"I'll be sure to make my decision soon," Ron grumbled half-heartedly thinking he would rather belch slugs again than work under his brother's close scrutiny.

When Percy took his leave Ron shared a sigh of relief with his brothers at the departure of the elder Weasley. "Don't know how we're related in the least," George remarked coming up behind Hermione and Ron from the back of the shop.

"Did you finish with little Prinny?" Hermione asked hoping to change the subject of Percy before Ron snatched onto the idea of quizzing her relentlessly about her choice to take on a servant.

"Yes, poor little bloke," George whistled in regret. "Don't know how people can rightly think a good beating will solve anything, but the world is full of a different lot that's certain."

"Mione' have you lost your mind? I think all those nights pouring over incantations and sneaking elves in and out of the city have buggered something in your head," Ron marveled not willing to let the matter go.

"Ron, I know it sounds a bit out of the ordinary, but the Minister wouldn't suggest such a plan to deal with the excess criminal influx or to help rehabilitate them if he didn't think there was something to the idea." She loved Ron and even more so for worrying about her. She was an adult though, and more than competent to make decisions on her own without having to explain the reasons to everyone.

"I think it's a good idea," Fred said casually straightening a table of wands and magical gadgets. "Hermione could use the help and frankly I'll be glad to be done with this dratted sneaking around all of the time. This shop is supposed to entertaining, not a center of intrigue."

Knowing he was merely teasing her Hermione did not take offense in the least. "You'll miss me Fred Weasley don't think you won't. He's right, having my own stop will be much nicer and I doubt my name will garner the same attention as yours so I will be able to conduct my business affairs more quietly."

"Be careful whose feathers you ruffle," George rejoined from behind her. "This little society is all well and good, but some people are taking this as a direct attack upon their way of life. Just be sure the effort is always worth it is all I will say."

Taking his warning to heart Hermione suspected there was more than one family ready to wish her a painful death. She had freed nearly fifty elves since her society had formally taken shape six months ago and there had been a fair amount of threats. Such warnings had been especially cruel the last time the courts had awarded one elf his freedom and payments of reparation. She hadn't let such things daunt her and dismissing her qualms about the anger of certain Wizarding families and her decision to take in a prisoner, she returned to her paperwork finally finding the right words to complete her incantation.

Percy smirked to himself feeling more than pleased with how the day's events were turning out. Upon returning to the Ministry he solemnly weeded through the horde of prisoners that were ambling through the halls in the lower section of the building. They disgusted him with their unclean smell and ill kept appearance. It was no wonder he was forced to refuse them some of the niceties normally offered, such as a simple shower and combs and brushes to groom themselves somewhat. They didn't appreciate such things and never would again.

One prisoner in particular, the one he had specifically in mind for Hermione had been placed in a solitary cell. Percy was not sure how he had managed to save himself from his original sentence of execution, but somewhere along the way fate had been shining on the undeserving wretch. It would be ideal though if he placed the man with Hermione as it would enable him to keep close watch over him. Also, he knew it would infuriate the prisoner to no end being placed in the service of someone not of pureblood or any stature in society. Watching him bow and scrap to Hermione would be worth the aggravation of allowing him to walk out of the halls of the Ministry.

Opening the door to the cell he wasn't surprised to find the man slumped in the corner his head down and his knees drawn up to his chest. "A trifle melancholy today?"

Vengeful bloodshot eyes rose with measured aggravation and hate. Seeing who had intruded on his miserable peace he shuttered his gaze to hide any and all thoughts. "Ah, the head Weasel. To what do I owe the dubious pleasure?"

"You've been spoken for, well rather I've made an arrangement for you. Miss Granger will be taking you in as a servant so you can spend the rest of your sentence in service to her. I find this particularly helpful, as it will allow me unhindered access to you at all times. I wouldn't think you'd want to try anything foolish and if you should, well more than likely I'll be on hand to see that you're punished for the offense," Percy informed him evenly finding it disconcerting that the man just stared at him dispassionately, not presenting any signs of emotions.

"Is that all? I would have thought it was something earth shattering if you lowered yourself to deliver the news firsthand," the prisoner said without any inflection save, annoyance in his tone.

Tightening his jaw Percy resisted the urge to lose his temper then and there. However that was something his brother Ronald would do, make a scene and appear inept. That certainly was not appropriate. He wouldn't let the disheveled and insignificant man slouching in front of him see he had affected him in any way. "I will be here in the morning. Try and clean yourself up before then when you're allowed and remember to use your more charming manners. Miss Granger might decide to send you back and that would not upset me in the least. I doubt you could cheat death twice."

The cell door slammed again and darkness enshrouded the room. Slowly uncurling his fists the prisoner rose to his feet and dusted himself off thinking it would be next to impossible to ever remove the filth and grime that coated his skin and ragged clothing. There would be time for that soon and at the moment that was the furthest thing from his mind.

Miss Granger, so she still thought to go by her maiden name. Trying to erase any and all connections to the husband she had so carelessly discarded. For the first time in many months he allowed himself a superior smirk that spread wide over his pale face. Yes, he had cheated death and now fate had been generous again. A gleam of excitement flashed in his silvery blue eyes along with what could only be considered possessive triumph.


	5. Fate's Devious Humor

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 5

Fate's Devious Humor

It was three days until she could open her shop, Secondhand Treasures, meager as it was. It was hers and an accomplishment all the same. Her parents didn't understand her need to live in the Wizarding World hoping that she would come home and go to college after she had graduated Hogwarts. She didn't feel as though she fit in the Muggle world any longer. Besides, she had a worthy cause to devote her time to and she was corresponding with Professor McGonagall on numerous spells thought might be useful and was working to perfect. It might prove boring to any other person, her life in general, but generally she was content.

"That's the last of it," Ron said with a profound sigh as he dropped a heavy box filled with papers and folders. "You want it over here in the corner?" he motioned with his head to a spot behind the counter out of sight from customers.

"Sure, that's fine, thanks," she whispered absently concentrating on where she should stack the used books. If she put them in the back they might be ignored, but if she placed them closer to the front…

"Don't you think you ought to reconsider this decision to just take in a criminal?" Ron broke into her thoughts suddenly.

"Ron, now we've gone over this. I'm not taking anyone in I'm basically helping the Ministry and in return getting help with the shop. It's not as if whoever Percy would choose will be really dangerous and they're taking precautions and such," Hermione explained patiently once again.

"Well if you don't feel comfortable with who Percy selects don't feel like you're obligated," Ron reiterated still unsure of the entire procedure and not convinced Hermione had thought of every aspect of the arrangement.

"I can't rely on you to help me everyday. You know your Mum and Dad are determined you'll take the job at the Ministry and it will be useful to have someone else around. Ginny will be in and out during the day and I'm sure I can count on both you and Harry to be making numerous attempts to drop in," she smiled knowing she was blessed to have friends who were so considerate but wondering if they were just trying to check in on her because they didn't trust her judgment.

"Once Ginny and Harry are back from Paris I know they'll object just as much as I am about this agreement you've made. It's not just that though Mione' there's those threats to consider. Now I know you got one again this morning and I can't help but wonder if you should just let this liberating the elves project go for a bit. Concentrate on those spells and the shop. That's more than enough to keep you occupied," Ron urged getting slightly angry that she refused to see how much more her life was worth than the thrill of freeing a house elf.

"I promised myself I would put my money to good use and I intend to continue as if nothing is wrong. I can't let a few notes and a minority dictate how I'm going to live my life." The dishonest means she had lowered herself to in order to get control of her inheritance only reinforced her determination to use the money to better the lives of others. Of course, Ron not knowing the truth behind how she actually acquired the funds could not understand what drove her to see to the welfare of others so feverishly.

There was a loud, insistent rap on the front door of the shop catching both Ron and Hermione's attention. "That's probably Percy. Would you let him in? I'm going to the back to get some more books."

Sighing with mild aggravation and throwing Hermione a disgruntled glare over his shoulder Ron grudgingly did as she requested. He'd hoped to be safely gone before his brother arrived, but he was never lucky enough to avoid one of Percy's visits it seemed. Quickly he glanced down to see if his robes weren't too out of sorts and there were no traces of crumbs or anything incriminating for Percy's shrewd gaze to assess with displeasure.

Opening the door Ron put on a polite mask of greeting for his sibling actually hoping for a decent greeting. "Percy, it's good to see you…"

Ron's words died in his throat when he opened the door. Percy wasn't in good spirits Ron knew from the moment his eyes fell on him, but the reason most likely was standing at his side. Not knowing whether to give into shock or rage first Ron for the first time he could remember tried to stay silent. Actually there were no words to describe how mad Percy must have been to deliver that particular man to Hermione's shop or how furious he was with his brother for being so thoughtless.

"Good morning, Ronald. I trust Hermione is about?" Percy asked casually disguising his anger at the prisoner quickly and stepping inside gliding past his brother.

"Yes, she's in the back," he mumbled finally composing himself to glare at the man who followed Percy into the shop. If Ron hadn't known better he'd have thought the prisoner wasn't aware of his station in life, sauntering and holding his shoulders squarely as if he wasn't wearing charmed ministry manacles and drab garments.

"Ronald, I believe you remember Mr. Malfoy," Percy drawled with distinct derision as he spoke the man's name.

"Unfortunately, and have you gone and lost your mind? What the bloody hell did you choose him for?" Ron finally lost the battle to refrain from shouting. "Percy you didn't seriously consider any of this did you?"

"On the contrary Ronald I considered every possibility and the best place for this particular criminal is right here. It will be easy for me to monitor his rehabilitation. Now instead of standing there gaping please tell Hermione that we are here," Percy said his impatience becoming evident.

Pausing to stare defiantly at his brother's back while the elder Weasley took in the view of the shop Ron then glanced sideways at Malfoy finding his maddening superior smirk as annoying now as it had been in their youth. "Percy, she'll send him back," Ron assured his brother dragging his feet toward the back of the shop.

"Ron, was that Percy?" Hermione's voice called from behind a curtain.

"Yes, um, Hermione I think you should…" Ron began not knowing the best way to warn her.

"I'm sorry I just went to get some more books. I know the place is terribly out of sorts but…"the smile on her face disappeared instantly when she stepped out of the back pushing past the curtain.

"Good morning, Hermione," Percy greeted politely a genuinely charming smile creasing his usually sharp and unyielding features. "I hope that you won't be too displeased with who I've assigned to you. Rest assured he is properly restrained and knows he risks his life to try escape or anything else remotely imprudent."

The stack of books she had been carrying fell from her arms with a loud crash. There was no way this was possible. Neville had been informed first hand by an Auror that Malfoy had been transported as planned to Azkaban and his execution carried out four days later. There was some mistake surely, or her mind was playing a wicked trick on her. He was dead.

"Hermione, are you ill?" Percy asked watching the young woman's face drain of color and her breathing grow rapid and unsteady.

"Of course she's ill. You've saddled her with that git Malfoy. Percy really you know better," Ron groused bending to retrieve the books heaped at her feet.

"Ronald leave them," Percy tersely ordered. "Malfoy make yourself useful and help Miss Granger. She seems to have dropped something."

Out of habit Ron immediately straightened amazed that his brother could still intimidate him so readily. No one moved not even Malfoy who seemed to be waiting for something. He was watching Hermione intently enjoying the wide range of emotions overtaking her features, mainly panic and astonishment.

"Malfoy," Percy said with a low hint of warning.

Deciding now was not the time to test his position just yet Malfoy slowly strode forward and though the act was the most menial task he had ever been forced to undertake he leaned down and gathered the books. "Where would you like these Miss Granger?"

Hermione did not miss the emphasis he placed on her name so she knew he meant to remind her in some covert manner of their last meeting. "On the table beside the window up front," she whispered refusing to meet his gaze and turning her attention to Percy.

"Will this situation be satisfactory?" Percy asked her wondering if his inept brother might be right and she wished to send Malfoy away. That would suit him and he would find someone else to report to her. "If you feel uncomfortable in any way I can return him to the Ministry and find someone more appropriate."

Yes, she wanted to shout. Send Malfoy back to the Ministry, lock him away and never let him see the light of day again. Then Percy's words from the day before came back to haunt her and she knew if she told Percy to return him to the Ministry he would most likely be executed and this time she would indirectly to blame. Still, she could not allow him to remain anywhere near her or be expected to live in close quarters with him for seven years.

"No, this will be fine. I'm aware of what happens to those who aren't accepted as servants. Everyone in some capacity deserves a second chance." The moment the words were out of her mouth she wanted to reach out and snatch them back. She had not meant to say that. She wanted Percy to take him away, keep him at a distance so he could never tell her terrible secret.

"Then it's settled," Percy nodded approvingly. "Ronald, I assume you will be dropping by this afternoon. Mother told me you had finally made the wise choice and will apprentice under Robards."

"Maybe tomorrow," Ron said absently worrying how pale Hermione still was and knowing she would be left alone with Malfoy even if he were restrained and incapable of magic.

"Ronald, I scheduled your meeting for this afternoon, I won't make excuses for you. I'll expect to see you then," Percy insisted leaving no room for arguments. "Hermione, I will stop in tomorrow to see that everything is going well. If for any reason you feel this arrangement isn't going to be acceptable then don't hesitate to let me know."

"Malfoy, remember what I've said. Should Miss Granger find anything remotely lacking in your performance there is no reason for me not to recommend you for a new trial and second incarceration do you understand?" Percy did not wait for the prisoner to answer and Malfoy chose not to acknowledge the haughty Ministry official.

When Percy had gone Ron finally unleashed his pent up rage. "That insufferable prat brother of mine, Mione' I swear he was pissed when he decided to choose Malfoy."

"Ron, there's no reason to get upset. What's done is done and you heard what Percy said. He's wearing charmed restraints, can't perform magic, and has to honor whatever order I give him. Let's just leave it at that," she sighed uncomfortably still not able to fully look at Malfoy himself. She also knew better, he was possibly capable of anything unless Neville had managed to impart the fact that he was more versed in wandless magic than he had first lead people to believe.

Malfoy listened with amusement at the outrage in Weasley's voice. He wondered if the slapdash redhead still thought he was in love with Hermione and was trying to appear gallant and worried. A thought occurred to him that maybe there might be more to the Weasel's relationship with Hermione than he knew. Peering out of the corner of his eye he watched to see how the pair would interact annoyed if it were true and they shared a relationship. She was after all a married woman, and surely Granger's morals would never allow her to be unfaithful.

Struggling to locate her voice Hermione decided to simply find a task that put Malfoy out of her way for the majority of the day. The cellar hadn't been properly cleaned yet and it had been the only place she decided was appropriate for whoever had been assigned to her to sleep and make their home. There was a secure lock on the cellar door from the outside so she would not have to feel ill at ease when she went above the shop at night to her own apartment. If necessary she could always employ a charm to keep him below as well.

"Malfoy," she finally addressed him directly trying for a superior and flawless tone. "The cellar is in mess and since I'm in the middle of setting the shop up you'll spend the day making sure it is spotless. You might want to be especially meticulous. It's where you'll be sleeping and spending whatever time you have to yourself for the next seven years."

She sounded strained and apprehensive and it was exactly the reaction he had expected. It was a pity Weasley was present it could have been so much more enjoyable to bait her and prey on her fear that he would reveal their secret bargain. Of course Weasley couldn't remain at the shop forever and Malfoy had every intention of discussing their clandestine vows at some point this day. "As you wish, Miss Granger," he replied much too demurely so that Ron immediately became suspicious.

"All right now come off it Malfoy," Ron scowled walking up to face him. "Last I heard you were sentenced to death and suddenly you manage a reprieve? Doesn't make sense if you ask me and you know as well as I do you can't possibly be this agreeable about it all. You'd as soon as spit in mine and Hermione's face as to quietly and meekly do as she tells you."

"Unfortunately Weasley I'm partial to living more than I am my pride at the moment. Besides your brother explained it all. Any show of disrespect or defiance and I'm back to waiting in a cell to die. I'm of the opinion that I want to live." The Weasel was right however. He would like to spit in his face, but he had to bide his time and wait until he had obtained his freedom. Then he could wish the sodding Weasel to hell and back.

"You mean you can't even utter a cross word? That must be disappointing for you. It's got to be terribly depressing to know you have to drudge day in and day out doing whatever _Miss Granger_ wants. I'm guessing you can't even defend yourself if someone where to say, rightly knock you in the eye for…"

"Ron," Hermione hissed impatiently. Why did he have to press the issue and make matters worse? "Stop tormenting him and let him do his work."

"But you have to admit Hermione it's entertaining to know that whatever we say or do he can't react to it," Ron grinned sizing Malfoy up as an opponent. "See," he said as he circled Malfoy and then insolently poked a finger into his back. "He can't touch me and I can…"

"He's not an animal you can jab and prod at," she sighed with irritation raising her eyes from a group of folders on elvish cases she had hoped to immerse herself in until Malfoy had disappeared into the cellar. "Malfoy, I'll send something down for you to eat for lunch and dinner. I won't be needing anything until you've finished downstairs."

She waved her hand indicating he was dismissed. Playing the haughty and indifferent lady didn't suit her at all and her nervousness was apparent. Yet Weasely kept him from approaching her as he wished. Waiting as he had done for so many months Malfoy walked past Ron and Hermione pausing briefly to rake her with a calculating gaze. To her credit she appeared to outwardly ignore him, but he caught the distinct trembling of her hand as she shuffled whatever papers she was fumbling with aside. Smirking to himself he walked to the back of the store finding the cellar door not far to the left of the curtain that separated the front counter from the storeroom and living quarters.

"Do you suppose he knows how to use a broom for something other than flying?" Ron asked frowning as Malfoy could be heard trudging down the flight of stairs below.

The only answer he received was an annoyed glare before Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to stacking books on the front table.

The day proceeded rather smoothly, too smoothly in fact and it made Hermione even more apprehensive. Ron did not leave the shop until he was well past five minutes late to his appointment at the Ministry. He was convinced she wasn't safe in Malfoy's presence for even a second and there was no way she could agree with him without revealing the damning truth about her past with the man.

Nighttime was setting in and though it was still summer and the days were long she had dreaded the darkness the entire day. There was nothing to really worry about she decided. Tonight she would tell him curtly that he could retire to his room for the evening and she could lock herself away and think about the best way to sort through the chaotic matter.

She had owled Neville immediately after Ron had left telling him of their new dilemma. His future was at stake as much as hers. If Malfoy chose to give details as to how they had come to be married then Neville's name and reputation would be brought into question. She couldn't bear it if her friend's life was ruined all for the purpose of her most insensitive mistake.

Seeing that the front door was securely locked Hermione pulled the curtains over the two display windows. Three more days and she would officially open. Everything was second hand, wands, clothing, books and other odd trinkets, but it was the finest quality and only the best merchandise she could find. It didn't seem possible but she had accomplished this on her own and felt a surge of pride at the fact.

Guilt washed over her submerging her more pleasant emotion. The accomplishment was the direct result of money she had acquired through dishonest means. Yes, it had helped her obtain this stop so she could quietly handle her elvish cases and she had actually made her society somewhat successful, but now her lies were coming back to haunt her. This was her punishment she realized, to have her deceit blatantly thrown into her face. She should never have considered such an ill-conceived scheme, but she had been desperate at the time. Now she was even more desperate to conceal the truth.

"Will there be anything else or will you not be needing me anymore tonight."

She jumped at the abrupt intrusion into her thoughts audibly gasping. How had Malfoy managed to come upon her so quietly? Not turning to face him she went about pretending to lock the front door once more. "No, nothing. Go down to your room and we'll discuss what needs to be done in the morning."

"As you wish, Miss Granger" he said evenly, but she could discern the same emphasis on her name.

She heard his footsteps falling as he walked away and sighed in relief. He was trying to unnerve her by refusing to confront her openly. That must be the reason he had not resorted to taunting her or threatening to reveal all that had passed between them.

Crossing her arms about her she slowly made her way to her own apartment just up the stairs at the back of the shop. Twice she checked the lock on her apartment door before feeling remotely secure. Then as a second thought she placed a charm on it as well not trusting Malfoy in any sense. Undressing quickly she neatly laid her robes and clothing over a chair to be cleaned in the morning. The best thing she could do for herself now was draw a hot bath and relax so she could better think on her dilemma.

Her apartment was not overly spacious but it was enough for her means. There was only a small kitchenette and living room, with a relatively roomy bedroom and bathroom connected. Walking into the bathroom she began to fill the tub adding some of her favorite scented soap.

Neville had promised to make it his first priority to see her in the morning before he reported to the Ministry. He would have some way to help she was sure of it. There was the matter of destroying the certificate on file. Maybe no one would believe her and Neville capable of such behavior.

Attempting to find a meager ray of hope in her discouraging situation she slowly eased into the water allowing herself a sigh of contentment. If only Neville could make the certificate disappear then Malfoy would have nothing to use to prove his story. The judge who had married them wouldn't recognize them that much was certain. He probably wouldn't even remember performing a marriage ceremony over a year ago.

Maybe her situation wasn't as dire as she first thought. Malfoy's reputation as a liar and deviant was well known but she and Neville were considered trustworthy and honorable. It would be his word against theirs.

Then again what if he had meant what he said to Ron this morning. Perhaps he was prepared to serve out his time to prevent the chance of another unfair or hasty trial. There was the possibility that although he would loathe every moment of it he might intend to honor the agreement that could ensure his freedom in seven years.

Closing her eyes she slipped farther down into the tub letting the bubbles that had foamed in the water slide over her skin. Facing another day didn't seem as terrible as it had moments before. It would certainly be uncomfortable dealing with him day after day, but maybe if he were going to be reasonable he might concede to a secret divorce as easily as he had to a secret marriage. That probably wouldn't be too hard to convince him of, as he surely did not want to have any legal ties to her whatsoever.

The hot water lulled her yet more and she dozed for a few minutes before reluctantly admitting to herself that she should get out and go to sleep. She was going to have another early morning if she expected to finish getting the shop ready by the end of the week. Dreamily opening her eyes she blinked twice completely certain she was imagining things.

This was an invasion that she could not ignore and her first reaction of surprise and fear turned to anger quickly. "Unless you want me to give Percy a less than shining report tomorrow you should leave," she warned reaching out to grab a towel and cover herself, not convinced the bubbles hid her body adequately.

"And unless you want for me to tell Mr. Weasley about our little arrangement you'll sit there quietly and listen," Malfoy countered leaning lazily back against the bathroom door, effectively blocking any chance of escape.

Her face did become a bit pale then and she fell silent. How had he gotten past her apartment door? She had thought to be courteous and not lock him in the cellar like an animal, but maybe she should have been more cautious. Still, unless he had forcefully damaged the lock and as his manacles were still tightly about his wrists he should not have been able to gain access to her room magically.

"This is a rather strange turn of events to say the least don't you agree?" He strolled closer amused that she tried to pull the towel around her more tightly and sink deeper into the water. For a second he toyed with the idea of confessing he had been watching her since she entered her apartment, but that would not make it easy for him in the long run so he kept silent.

"I was wondering when you would finally bring this up. I have to tell you however that as far as I'm concerned the arrangement you're talking about never took place." She glared back at him defiantly hoping he could not see how unnerved she was becoming. The circumstances were not in her favor as her wand was lying on her dresser and he was between her and the bathroom door.

"Oh, I'm well aware of your determination to forget everything that happened that night. Don't you think you're taking it a bit too far though to keep your maiden name? Also, the questions everyone must have asked as to why you of all people married so suddenly. What did you tell them happened to your husband?" So that was how she was going to approach it, Malfoy realized, denying her actions. That should not have surprised him. He was accustomed to being ignored and forgotten about by now and he had hardly expected her to be elated that he had cheated his sentence of death.

"That is none of your business. I'm no longer married, my husband is dead, and my friends understand that is a part of my life I don't discuss. Now, you will leave and I don't care what you tell Percy tomorrow. I intend to have you taken back to the Ministry." There she had dared to threaten him. She waited to see how he would react. More than likely he would laugh and think her too weak to actually make good her warning.

He came forward in a rush leaning over the tub and pressing his face inches before her own. "You're wrong I'm afraid. You are still married and your husband is very much alive despite what you may have wished otherwise."

Momentarily disconcerted by the anger evident in his eyes and how set his jaw had become Hermione crept back involuntarily. Recovering quickly she frowned not wanting to give in and let him intimidate her. "This discussion is over. Leave now and maybe I'll consider telling Percy that we simply don't get along and forget to mention this incident."

"Wouldn't the Ministry Weasel be interested to know that Longbottom and Granger had been sneaking around letting prisoners out of their cells, and falsifying documents," Malfoy chided mockingly leaning closer still as she drew away from him.

Frightening her was not as exhilarating as he thought it would be, but neither did he want to spend the rest of his days bowing and bending to her every order. The night he had been given the news he was not going to be put to death he made his decision how he would proceed should he ever be freed from Azkaban. She would accept his terms in time whether she wished to or not.

"Percy won't believe you and Neville can destroy the certificate proving there was ever a marriage in the first place," she shrugged but her eyes widened when the movement caused the towel to slip too far down and almost reveal more than she wished.

"What about the second certificate?" He asked raising a sardonic brow. "Longbottom gave it to me remember thinking it would be destroyed when they carried out my sentence. As you can see I'm alive and well and in possession of said document."

Hermione's mouth fell open into a gasp of horror. She hadn't really forgotten about the other copy of the marriage certificate. She had just assumed that if he had survived he wouldn't have been able to keep it with him. In prison no one was allowed to have anything of value or any papers with them for security purposes. Gods, why had Neville given it to Malfoy? Yet, there was no indication that he would be pardoned and the certificate would have been destroyed without a trace. Narrowing her eyes she stared back at him wrathfully. "What is it you want? Money, your freedom, because I swear I'll…"  
His hand shot out then to cover her mouth and he shook his head slowly. "There's nothing you can do unless you want to admit the truth and that would be most unpleasant for you and Longbottom wouldn't it? As for what I want, we'll get to that in time. For tomorrow when dear Mr. Weasley comes back you'll tell him how you are certain that this arrangement is for the best. I'm not going anywhere and I don't intend for you to so easily dispose of me again."

Shaking her head to rid herself of his touch she jerked backward hating the sense of helplessness she felt engulfing her. "You've said what you came to say. Leave."

Staring at her intently he rose from the side of the tub. "I think I've made my point for tonight. Now, stand up."

Eyes flashing with indignation and ire she vehemently refused. "I will not. You may think you've gotten the upper hand, but I'm not afraid of you. We're not children anymore and you can't harass me into doing whatever you want."

"I have a document that says otherwise. Now stand up and drop that sopping wet towel," he ordered again. She was going to learn that she couldn't deny him and he wasn't going to let her exert any control.

They stared at one another neither willing to stand down. Reluctantly out of desperation to be rid of him she decided to relinquish some of her dignity and gradually made to come to her feet. There was no way to calm her trembling and she knew it probably pleased him to know he was going to win this battle. Fighting back the urge to cry she unwound the towel and dropped it with a sickening splash into the water.

She did not know how long she stood there looking into the water hating the man watching her attentively. Though she did not look into his face once she felt the path his eyes took over every inch of her skin. Shaking visibly she reminded herself that he wouldn't be foolish enough to attack her. He wouldn't want her in that way and this was just another ploy to humiliate her.

Suddenly a dry towel was thrown against her chest. Thankfully but with bemusement she wrapped it tightly about her. Thinking she was free and that he would surely walk away she almost screamed when large, but dexterous fingers curled into her hair and loosened the knot atop her head. The emotion she saw in his eyes, now that she had the courage to face him, was dark and undefined. The sight of him raking her features so shrewdly did more to terrify her than his threat to reveal their marriage had.

When he finally released her she stumbled back almost slipping in the tub. Scrambling she stepped out onto the rugs and backed into a corner not certain what to expect of him next. He kept his gaze focused on the water as it settled from the upset she had caused in her haste. "I will see you in the morning. Remember what you'll be telling Weasley."

He opened the bathroom door and continued on through pausing briefly to glance back over his shoulder. "Good night, Mrs. Malfoy."

With a cry of frustration and rage Hermione reached out grabbing the first thing her hand could find. Hurling the hairbrush in his direction she prayed foolishly that it would knock him unconscious. The hairbrush harmlessly hit the door as he shut it behind him and he avoided any injury infuriating her all the more.


	6. A Simple Warning

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well. _

Chapter 6

A Simple Warning

Punctual as ever Percy arrived the next morning well before Hermione had started breakfast upstairs and gotten dressed for the day. Her encounter with her supposedly dead husband the night before making her on edge she jumped overturning her thankfully empty teacup in the process at the first sounds of Percy's persistent rapping on the door below. Checking the time she realized she had overslept a bit having a significant amount of trouble falling asleep. Wrapping her robe about her for modesty sake she carefully unbolted her apartment door and peeking around to make certain Malfoy wasn't hovering nearby, quietly crept below.

To her dismay he was already up and about making no move to open the door to Percy, and not even bothering to busy himself with any work whatsoever. "Did your last few months in prison make you deaf?" she grumbled throwing him a quelling glare.

"I'm afraid I'm not sure as to what my duties entail. If I'm supposed to open the doors for everyone who happens by you should say so. You didn't make yourself very clear on the matter yesterday," he answered noncommittally not looking at her at first. Instead he was frowning at how boring she had settled into her life becoming. Second hand books, wands, and other nonsense, she most definitely was going to be at an advantage having married him.

"It's not a duty it's common courtesy," she snapped back fumbling in the drawer behind the counter for the keys.

"You're asking me to show the Jr. Minister courtesy?" he turned to smirk at her but his face lost any trace of amusement. "Do you always greet customers in your nightgown and robe or is the Ministry Weasel an exception?"

"If you'd opened the door in the first place I would've had time to dress, but since you're lazy, arrogant, and without manners I'm just going to have to let him myself." She was already at the door turning the key in the lock not even trying to guess why he was suddenly so surly. More than likely he was not a morning person, just another delight to add to the many she would undoubtedly regret by agreeing to keep him here and letting him intimidate her into silence.

"Good morning Percy," she smiled her past annoyance cast from her features.

"Hermione, I'm sorry did I catch you at a bad time," Percy asked assessing her attire. Her legs were peeking through the slit at her knees and she had only worn a thigh length gown the night before. "Forgive me, but I was only checking in to see that the arrangement was still satisfactory. Is Mr. Malfoy proving himself to be as interested in his rehabilitation as he should be?"

Hermione paused for a moment wanting desperately to tell Percy the truth, beg him to take Malfoy away, but instead she smiled wider. "He's proving to be a decent help really. Nothing to worry about in the least," she lied hoping Percy was not as perceptive as she knew him to be.

"Truly, how surprising. I was certain you'd be ready to ship him off this morning." Percy glanced over Hermione's shoulder to evaluate the man in question finding him reading and standing about as though he didn't have a care in the world. That was what galled him the most about the bastard he decided, his cavalier attitude toward his sentence and his chance at a more pleasant environment in which to pay his debt to society.

"Did you receive the money I sent yesterday?" she asked changing the subject of Malfoy's performance hastily.

"Yes, and again I thank you for your contribution and I'm certain Mr. Malfoy appreciates the effort as well," Percy nodded in the other man's direction but still garnered no outward response.

"The terms of this agreement Percy are for seven years, is that correct? Also, what should I do if for some reason after awhile I wouldn't need his help anymore? Would it be possible to free him or would I have to relinquish him back to the Ministry or someone else so that he could fulfill the remainder of his sentence?" She knew that Malfoy was hanging on her every word daring her to defy him and tell Percy to take him away. However, she was curious as to the options she had should she find a way to extricate herself from the muddle she'd made of her life.

"Actually, the same terms as hundreds of years ago apply," Percy stated with a shrug. "Not that I agree but should Malfoy ever find the funds to reimburse you for your payment to the Ministry, or Gods forbid he married you he would be free."

Hermione suddenly felt lightheaded and turned away slightly so Percy could not gauge her reaction. Simply put should Malfoy ever wish for his freedom, which he would most definitely seek, all he needed to do was reveal their secret. It would be the perfect revenge destroying her friendships with Ron and Harry for her deceit, ruining Neville's future in the Ministry, and walking away from it all a free man in return.

"Oh well, I won't keep you any longer as I appear to have inconvenienced you too early this morning," Percy interrupted her troubled thoughts just then. "Remember if there is anything you ever need don't hesitate to ask," he reminded her kindly. Then he took her hand in his and patted it reassuringly. "Good day," he said and turned to leave.

Just before stepping from the shop he stopped short and leaned down to retrieve a neatly wrapped package sitting on the front step. "Well it looks as though you have some well wishers Hermione," he smiled back her as he handed her the package.

Grimacing in confusion Hermione took the gift wondering suddenly if it was from Percy and he was trying to be coy. There was a card on the top and it was simply congratulating her on her new shop. "Thank you," she murmured wondering who could have sent the gift knowing that her friends had already expressed their happiness for her. Maybe it was one of the elves she had helped.

As Percy shut the door behind him Hermione ripped into the wrapping to discover what was obviously a box of chocolates. They were of the variety Fred and George sold down the street so she grinned to herself thinking they had been thoughtful enough to express their confidence in her again. Pulling the top off of the box she walked over to the counter and sat them down about to take one of the round chocolates from a wrapper.

"Perhaps if Weasley knew you were a married woman he wouldn't be so encouraged." Malfoy's annoyed tone caused her to sigh and drop the sweet before enjoying it.

"I don't know what you're talking about and further more I don't care. Percy's a good man, hard, and sometimes over zealous, but deep down he means well." For a second she had forgotten about Malfoy's presence he'd been so uncharacteristically quiet.

"Are these from another admirer or did Weasley just want you to believe he was being romantic by giving you a secret gift. The man's too obvious." Malfoy slammed shut the book he had been pretending to read while watching Percy with his wife. Of all the aggravations he'd thought to face regarding Potter and the younger Weasel he hadn't thought to encounter Percy as any viable threat as far as Hermione was concerned.

"He's being nice," she reiterated shaking her head with disbelief. Malfoy was being unreasonable and she didn't have the time to try and figure out what had flared his temper this time. "You are a ruthless criminal and he's seeing that I'm safe and nothing bad has happened to me. Besides, Percy along with the rest of the world knows I'm a widow."

"Except, you know otherwise," Malfoy reminded her stalking closer and deciding that she wasn't as timid in the light of day so he wouldn't have to tread so lightly.

"Do I?" she challenged picking up the piece of chocolate again and strolling over to straighten a rack on the wall she just noticed was hanging ever so slightly to the left.

"I thought we had discussed this last night. Weren't you listening?" While her back was turned he decided to read the card for himself. Just something about congratulations not anything too threatening so nothing at the moment to worry over he realized before absently picking out one of the chocolates himself.

"I listened that doesn't mean I agree. Now don't you have something to do? Sweeping the floors or maybe cleaning some windows?" She wasn't in the mood to deal with him yet and hadn't developed a sound plan in finding a way to dissolve their marriage. An annulment was out of the question, as that would invalidate her claim to the inheritance. She had quite effectively gone through the last of it when she decided to offer the Ministry help with the rehabilitation of a prisoner. Divorce was the only other option and for some reason she was getting the distinct feeling he would make that very difficult for her to obtain.

He wasn't paying any attention to her having turned his interest to the chocolates. There was something familiar about the scent of them, almost too sweet. Studying the candy closer he nearly tasted it suddenly thinking better of the idea. Only half hearing her mumbling to herself about annulments and money slowly the memory of when he'd first smelled something that sugary and acrid at the same time took shape in his mind. When he was a child his father had worked tirelessly for days and nights on end perfecting poison potions and this had a similar aroma to one such concoction. It was used to trick the intended victim into thinking they were eating a sweet pastry or candy when ultimately one bite brought on certain death with generally no anecdote.

Dropping the piece with disgust into the box he glanced up to see Hermione poised to pop the candy in her mouth. "Hermione, don't," he shouted rushing forward to grab the candy from her hand.

"Gods, what?" she gasped when he violently ripped the sweet from her grasp. "Now really you're being ridiculous."

"It's poison," he stated impatiently as though she should have known better. With revulsion he threw the piece in the fireplace in an adjacent wall then retrieved the rest of the box and disposed of it in the same manner.

"This is juvenile even for you. Simply because someone was thoughtful enough to…"

"If you don't believe me see for yourself. Start a fire and if the smoke turns green the candy was poisonous if not then for the first time in written history I'm wrong."

She glanced sideways at him wondering if he was speaking truthfully and if he were how would he know the candy was poisoned. "Very well." Having no wand at hand she shuffled through the drawer behind the counter finding matches. "I don't know what makes you think they're poison."

As the fire came to life slowly white puffs of smoke wafted up to the chimney. Then quite abruptly there was a loud pop and the smoke billowed upward in huge clouds of green, sweet and pungent smelling all at once. A bit shaken that she had nearly eaten one of the poison pieces she also did not like admitting that he had been right in assuming it was deadly to consume. "How did you know?"

"That doesn't matter what you should be wondering is who sent it and why." It was almost unbelievable to him that she was more concerned with being proven wrong than having her life threatened.

"Probably one of the families forced to pay reparations to an abused house elf," she answered with a shrug as though it was an everyday occurrence. "Usually I get a note or something first though." She quickly put out the fire and turned to go back upstairs and dress.

Before she could get by him Malfoy caught her arm to propel her back to face him again. "What do you mean you usually get notes and what about house elves? Tell me you really didn't start that dreary society of yours. It was a nice boring little hobby for you in school, but surely you put that well earned inheritance to better use."

Jerking herself free she straightened her robe again and drew her chin upward insulted whenever anyone did not feel as though her work to save the less fortunate elves was worthwhile. "That is exactly why I wanted the inheritance in the first place and I've been pretty successful. As for the notes, there are a few families that are not as impressed by my society and make empty threats from time to time."

"Today wasn't an empty threat," he noted harshly amazed that she took a near death experience so calmly. "Also, can you blame the families you're forcing to pay these elves of yours? Everyone lost something in the war and then what little they have left the courts are more than happy to take away."

"I didn't eat the candy, there was probably an anecdote, now let's just drop this subject," she said impatient to get the day underway. She couldn't very well keep standing down there arguing with him for no reason when there was work to be done.

He let her go this time waiting until she was out of sight to inspect the box the candies had arrived in earlier. There wasn't anything outwardly wrong in the least and nothing that would suggest who had sent the box in the first place. Well, whether she agreed or not sooner than later she was going to give up this organization for elvish welfare or whatever the bloody hell she called it. Trying to better society was a sickeningly noble venture if it didn't endanger your life in the process.

Upstairs she hurriedly dressed and went over a list of things she could busy Malfoy with so she wouldn't have to have him underfoot. There was the business of organizing the storeroom, which would need a thorough cleaning before he could begin stacking boxes in any semblance of order. That would keep him busy for the better part of the day and give her time to jot down some more incantations.

She heard voices already when she came back down and paused briefly to judge who might have happened by so soon after Percy's departure. She recognized Neville instantly and rushed forward before he could engage Malfoy in any type of argument. The slightest provocation might cause the malevolent prisoner to eagerly seek to destroy his Ministry career. "Neville, good morning," she said as cheerfully as possible.

Her friend was frowning harshly at Malfoy who was smirking at him with a gleam of victory present in his gaze. "Hermione, I don't know how this happened. I was told personally by one of the Aurors who witnessed his execution that it had taken place. Perhaps they were mistaken, but I am sorry."

"Neville, he's got the other certificate," she warned him coming to stand closer. "Even if you destroy the one at the Ministry he has the proof he needs I'm afraid to verify his claims."

"What's stopping you Malfoy?" Neville asked raising a disdainful brow. "Go ahead, talk all you want. Go to Percy himself and see how far it gets you."

Nervously Hermione wrung her hands at Neville's taunting. "Neville, you don't want that. Percy would see to it that you're terminated at the Ministry."

"Listen to the clever witch Longbottom," Malfoy advised wondering where the little prat was getting is sudden courage from.

"Percy isn't likely to believe anything unkind you say about Hermione is all," Neville explained matter-of-factly. "He's taken it in his mind that she's very hard-working, law abiding, and valuable to the Ministry for her help with the elves and by taking you in of all people. No, I doubt you'd be able to prove her a liar in Percy's eyes at all."

Surely Neville was bluffing she thought to herself, but hoped he wouldn't continue. Percy would as soon lock her away for something similar to treason if he ever discovered what she and Neville had secretly done. "Now really Neville you're making too much of this. Malfoy I'm sure is willing to discuss the possibility of a secret divorce."

"No, Malfoy is not and just why do you think Hermione is so above reproach as far as the Ministry Weasel's concerned," Malfoy said in clipped tones. All traces of lazy amusement were gone and he wasn't smirking but glaring fiercely waiting for Neville's response.

"It's no secret at the Ministry Mione' that Percy is taking an interest in a friendship with you. You are a highly respected witch for the most part, except to those families whose elves you've freed. As for you Malfoy, a secret divorce is the only option open here I think. It will be more difficult than the wedding, but advantageous to you both." Neville sighed with great effort. This bargain of Hermione and Malfoy's was growing to ghastly proportions and he had every fear that no good could come of it.

Hermione wasn't thinking about convincing Malfoy of a divorce, but wondering why Percy was suddenly so attentive where she was concerned. She'd never given him any indications that she thought of him as anything more than a passing acquaintance and now Neville was going so far as to think he'd let a sedition charge go unnoticed in favor of keeping her out of Azkaban?

"Is Weasley in the habit of pursuing married women then?" Malfoy drawled narrowing his eyes at Hermione who was deep in thought. She wasn't actually flattered that the red haired oaf was thinking of approaching her in a possibly romantic fashion?

"I'm a widow," Hermione snapped back. "We've exhausted that topic haven't we? Neville, see if you can get the papers quietly and as soon as they're ready bring them to the shop. Malfoy and I will sign them and get this over and done with."

"Don't waste your time Longbottom. I'm not signing anything. You've made your choice Hermione you'll have to live with it," he said frankly watching to see her reaction. He wasn't disappointed when her dark eyes sparked to life with anger and she placed her hands on her hips falling into a definitely furious stance.

"You're trying to exact some sort of revenge aren't you? Well, you will sign the papers and Neville will make sure this insane bargain never took place!" Gods, but Malfoy was being stubborn. She didn't recognize his ploy as he was surely suffering knowing he was married to someone he considered beneath him and not worthy of his attention.

"We played by your rules before and see where we ended up?" Malfoy stated trying to maintain an aloof air. "You can rant all you want, but I won't sign anything. Longbottom, you can be on your way if there's no other purpose for your visit."

He strode closer to Hermione and grabbed her arm when she made to retreat. "There's nothing further to discuss. We can work through this all on our own I'm certain." Then insolently he caught her chin firmly between his fingers and bent down to kiss her.

Eyes wide Hermione's muffled cry of outrage did nothing to dissuade him. When she struggled he bit her bottom lip warning her he wasn't going to release her until he was quite ready to do so. Talk of Percy and her determination to seek a divorce was irritating him and he wasn't in the mood to be gentle or lenient just now.

"Malfoy I'm warning you…" Neville started forward indignation present in his face.

"To what stay away from my own wife?" Malfoy baited lifting his head somewhat and enjoying the infuriated gasp that issued from Hermione.

"I'm a widow, my husband is dead," she reiterated flatly.

"That is getting annoying, the constant screeching about your widow status," he commented shaking his head and grimacing.

Thoroughly enraged she wrenched back and put as much distance between herself and Malfoy as possible glaring hatefully. "You will sign the papers."

"I think not," he rejoined coolly his features taking on a sharpness to them again.

"Malfoy, now this is not amusing anymore. Let me obtain the divorce papers and we'll settle this…" Neville began again feeling the tension suddenly increase rapidly.

"This no longer concerns you Longbottom and I suggest you mind your own business from now on." Malfoy wasn't going to take his gaze from Hermione determined to make her understand she could not control the situation at hand. From here on out they were going to abide by his terms with no exceptions.

"Neville get the papers," Hermione gritted out slowly finding Malfoy's glare unnerving. With a drawn out sigh she marched over to the front door. "We're keeping you too long and Percy might get suspicious. If I need anything I'll owl you I promise."

Casting Malfoy one last vicious glance Neville took the none too subtle hint that he should leave. It probably was for the best. He could secure the papers as quickly as possible and it would keep Malfoy from goading him and angering him further. "Don't hesitate if there is anything you need."

Hermione nodded and hugged Neville quickly before he stepped from the shop. "Take care and don't do anything that would make anyone suspicious of you. If I have to I can find a way out of this myself."

With Neville gone Hermione locked the front door again thinking absently that it was only two days more and she could start her business. Turning around Malfoy was still glaring at her and she decided it was in the best interest for the remainder of the day if to ignored the previous topic altogether. "I'm going upstairs to get some breakfast, I will bring you something as well if you like."

He didn't answer her but shoved his body away from the table he had been leaning against and pretended to busy himself picking through odds and ends that she hadn't properly displayed yet. Realizing she wasn't going to get a response she went on her way returning sometime later with breakfast for two. Pulling an empty table aside she also found a simple stool and sat down to eat quietly.

A few minutes passed before he sat across from her obviously not impressed with what she had provided for him to eat. She waited patiently for him to complain already prepared for any slurs he might hurl at her amateur cooking skills. When he said nothing and they had nearly finished she finally looked up inexplicably angry that he wasn't living up to her expectations by trying to insult her or make a fuss about something or another.

"Why are you doing this?" she finally said desperately dropping her fork onto her plate with a startling clatter.

"What? Eating? Well, one needs to keep up one's strength." He never met her gaze just continued picking at one of the sausages that she knew she had burned. Perhaps using magic for cooking was something she should really consider doing more often. Still the Muggle habit of preparing food on her own was hard to break.

"No, not shouting, insulting me, making it known how miserable you are about this arrangement," she cried hating how unconcerned he seemed about it all.

"First you carry on about me being unreasonable now you're fuming because I'm trying to be civil. Please, do explain." Giving up on the rest of his breakfast he pushed the plate away and folded his arms on the table giving her his full attention.

"This isn't like you. The Malfoy I remember would hate the very thought of having to exert himself in any way, let alone be expected to do manual labor." He was appearing to be so casual and composed while she was in constant turmoil every moment she was in his presence. It was likely to drive her mad.

"If you know how difficult it is for me to lower myself to such standards all you need to do is admit to the truth," he said nonchalantly with a shrug.

"See there you are again acting as though it's only your living arrangements and prisoner status that matter to you? I'm not bloody stupid. I know it's aggravating you to put it mildly that you've married a Muggle-born mediocrity of society."

"You've positioned yourself in that role all on your own," he asserted absently rubbing his wrists. Percy was very precise in making certain the damned manacles were practically seared into his skin.

"What do you mean?" This would be interesting she thought halfheartedly hating herself for still after all of these years caring what he thought of her.

"Take a look around you. A second hand shop compared to actually putting that inheritance toward a decent life. You could have had a splendid townhouse or something of the sort along with beautiful clothes, jewels, the kinds of things females dream of buying and lavishing themselves with," he replied scowling when he realized the skin underneath the lead bands was rubbed raw once more.

"Just what would I do with those? Jewels are worthless really if you don't have anyone to wear them for or a place to wear them to. A townhouse? One person rattling around in such a big space with no one for company would be a waste," she said pinching her nose up as though the very idea of it was absurd. "No, I'm a much better person for spending my money wisely."

He just shook his head forgetting that he wasn't talking to an average female who would immediately fall prey to the wiles of sparkling diamonds and expensive clothing. "So you're really satisfied living life in such a dull manner? Quite pitiful really, but anyhow, what mundane task do you have planned to keep me safely tucked out of your way for the day?"

"The storeroom needs organizing," she whispered frowning thoughtfully. During the entirety of breakfast he had been fidgeting with his manacles and it was not as though he was trying to free himself. He could do that well enough. "Is there something wrong with the restraints? You've toyed with them forever now."

"Perhaps you should wear lead restraints for the better part of a year and see how comfortable you are," he snarled back irritably. She was making politeness difficult and she had effectively dashed any hopes of plying her with gifts of a frivolous feminine nature. What little patience he had left was waning considerably.

"You might as well take them off. We both know you're capable of it and I doubt we'll have anyone in for the rest of the day that would see you without them." While she offered her suggestion she looked closer and noticed the deep red welts around his wrists. The skin was certain to not heal as long as the manacles were so tightly bound.

She called her wand to her having remembered to carry it down from upstairs when she brought breakfast and walked over to him instinctively as though he were anyone else in need of assistance. Lifting one of his wrists she caught her wand in her other hand and began examining the inflamed skin. When the manacles stayed in place and he didn't move she looked up at him confused. "Well, are you going to take them off or not? I can't very well make sure you won't get the skin infected if you don't."

Silently the manacles fell to the table and Hermione returned her attention to her task. She remembered healing spells almost as easily as she did her defensive ones. Healing could be considered more of a hobby than anything however and she did keep up her reading on certain incantation. When she was seemingly pleased she carefully let go of his wrist and was surprised when he presented her with his other. Murmuring the same spells a second time she sighed when she was finished wondering why Percy or whoever had secured his restraints had been hell bent on bonding them to his flesh it appeared.

"There," she whispered satisfied that the dark red coloring was fading and the skin was taking on a healthy glow. "Does that feel better?" she asked before she thought better of it. Why did she try and pretend this was anyone other than the very person who had always sought and did still to destroy her in any possible way?

"Somewhat," he amended pulling his sleeves up further to see if she had truly made any improvements. The burning was gone and the redness was disappearing. Actually she had done a rather splendid job but as her attitude toward him was still less than favorable he withheld any praise. "Would it make you more comfortable if I put them back on?" he asked nodding toward the fallen manacles on the table.

She wasn't staring at them; rather she had fixed her gaze on his forearm where the hideous burnt flesh that was Voldemort's Dark Mark was etched. The horror mixed with shock and revulsion that he saw on her soft features angered and haunted him. "You can keep staring at it and it's still going to be there you know? There's nothing that can remove it from my understanding except death so get used to it," he snapped shoving his sleeves down.

"I've never seen it so close before," she whispered as an excuse and the truth. "I just supposed you'd be proud of it is all. You betrayed the Wizarding World and the Ministry to receive it, followed your father's wishes, and now you keep it hidden."

"My father's beliefs and wishes got him killed didn't they?" He wanted to shake her senseless, proud of the fucking scarred marking? "Would you be proud of something that resulted in your losing everything you ever knew or held to be true? Would you be proud of something that only helped you earn a death sentence by guilt from association? I highly doubt it."

Raising a dark eyebrow Hermione impulsively reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, but you have to admit you were determined to see the Dark Lord's work done and…"

"So that is how we are going about the day is it?" he sneered. "Throwing one another's mistakes about? Well then perhaps we should be reminded of the time you arrogantly assumed you could marry for money and expect no further consequences."

Sighing Hermione let her hand fall away and no longer cared if she had insulted him or trod on his feelings in any way. He was such an ill tempered bastard it was useless to try and have a civilized conversation. "There wouldn't have to be consequences if you would just let go of whatever scheme you're plotting to make me suffer and sign divorce papers when Neville produces them."

"Longbottom or anyone else for that matter no longer has any bearing on our agreement is that clear?" If she mentioned divorce once more this day he would forget all about attempting to be pleasant and simply and bluntly inform her where they stood. The only thing that kept him from approaching her as he wished was the vision of her shaking and frightened of him.

"What is it you want?" she asked desperately staring back at him dark eyes immersed in confusion. "Do you want money? When I have the funds I could give them to you and you could buy your freedom. Something else? Are you thinking you can hurt Harry through me? I don't understand Malfoy truly I don't."

"No, mores the pity you wouldn't then again it's also refreshing," he said wryly almost wanting to laugh at his own situation. Any other woman would possibly assume that he wanted to use their body, to have them in his bed, but not Granger. No she picked over every possibility but the truth and it was endearingly innocent and equally exasperating.

"How did you ever manage to get a reprieve?" she interrupted his thoughts abruptly changing the subject.

"I honestly don't know. The night before they were suppose to carry out my sentence I was moved to a different floor of the prison and told that I was receiving a review of my case. A few weeks later a very displeased Auror informed me my sentence had been reduced. I didn't question it and still don't. I'm alive and cheated the Dementor's Kiss as well so for whatever reason luck was on my side I'm not going to analyze it."

"Neville knew nothing of this," she murmured. "I would have thought he would have heard something."

"Would you have cared?" he inquired derisively remembering all of the foolish nights he had dreamed of her wondering about his welfare even possibly waiting for him to be released. It had been an imaginative way to pass the agonizingly wearisome days. Even the most eccentric and dangerous of Death Eaters were assured of someone in the outside world concerned for their well being, waiting to be reunited with them.

"I told you that night I didn't think you deserved to die?" she whispered outraged that he could think her that cruel.

"However you would have preferred I rotted in Azkaban and left you in peace," he spat back at her bitterly.

"I'm not going to stand here and make excuses for your actions. You weren't innocent because you did intend to kill Dumbledore. Snape only finished the task for you and…"

Her eyes widened when he reached out and grabbed her upper shoulders hauling her forward. "You're talking about things you don't know or understand. Potter's version of what happened in the tower and mine are from different view points entirely. Somehow, I doubt you'd believe your husband over the fucking golden prat of our generation."

"Don't deny you were instructed to kill the headmaster," she hissed back struggling to maintain her composure. His eyes were flashing dangerously and there was something beyond his anger that worried her more.

"When you're more of mind to be sensible I'll tell you how and why I came to be in the tower that night, but I think it's best if we leave things from the past alone for now." He took a deep breath and released her then. Where was her damnable Gryffindor bravery now he wondered wrathfully? She was trembling again and staring back at him as though he was close to breaking her in two. He hated that fear in her eyes. It reminded of him of his mother, but he stopped himself. She hadn't thought of him when it mattered most, why should he consider of her.

"I don't think I want to know what evil thoughts are twisting around in your head. Whose to say you won't try and do me some harm to punish Harry for finding you that night?" There was something about him that had changed since school. A wildness ruled him now, something disturbing she couldn't define. Nothing was in place to keep him from attacking her in any way he wished and looking again at his manacles lying haplessly on the table she realized how vulnerable she truly was.

She was so thoughtful and her eyes kept darting about as though she was unconsciously seeking an escape. He shouldn't have, he knew that. Yet what good was power if one didn't use it from time to time? Slowly he concentrated on her thoughts burrowing deep into the recesses of her mind. For a brief moment her defenses were down, he was granted access to her deepest desires and fears. Then she recognized his ploy and instantly he was shoved from her subconscious. It was all the time he needed however. He aspired to be the center of her desire, but instead he was everything she feared.

"You will not do that again," she shouted turning on him incensed and bewildered. Blocking a strong willed wizard from treading through the darkest corners of her mind was tiring and quite straining to say the least.

"We have started off badly as usual," he began a calm and tranquil expression gracing his features. "My goal isn't to hurt you. You won't believe that now and I understand, but I'm not going to dance around the subject at hand. I'm not gentle or generally kind, but I'm not a bloody murdering beast either. Our situation is unique but we're both capable of making this arrangement work to our advantage."

Oddly he could look charming when he wasn't frowning or towering over her menacingly. Hermione stared at him even more perplexed than before. It almost seemed in a roundabout way Malfoy was apologizing or at least atoning for his behavior in some fashion. She still wasn't convinced. "You're right I don't believe you. More than likely you're planning numerous ways to end my life or destroy what I have and…"

"Completely wrong on both counts," he assured her holding up his hands in defense. "Lets leave it that I'm in no way shape or form planning your ultimate downfall or demise. As to how we proceed from here, that will remain to be seen, but in my mind no matter how we go about it the end result will be the same."

If she hadn't been so accustomed to his outbursts and childish pranks since they were children she would have believed him in that moment. There was nothing false or haughty about him now and he genuinely offered his word that he did not mean to purposely hurt her. Could she trust him to at least be enough of a gentleman and an adult to peacefully coexist until they could find a common ground for solving the dilemma of their marriage?

"Now, as for the rest of the day," he said lifting his lips in a mysterious smile. "What do you propose we do? Do you really want to mope around stacking shelves and sorting books," he drew closer to her looking down at her with an assessing gleam in his eyes, "or do you want to find a much more delightful way to pass the time?"

She had been wrong. He was as dangerous and depraved as she had always known him to be. "The storeroom Malfoy," she reminded him casting her gaze downward and trying to back up but another table halted her retreat.

"Ah, as boring as your books," he lamented enjoying the pink tinge that was spreading over her cheeks and to the tips of her delicate ears. "It's safer to hide behind those dusty tomes and not let the world in isn't? Amazing really that you've done battle with Death Eaters, stood at Potter's side during numerous skirmishes, and faced down death at the hands of the Dark Lord himself, but you're afraid of emotions that you don't understand. Hmm, if you can't read it in a book then it isn't worth knowing is that your conclusion?"

"The storeroom," she ground out again feeling the heat climbing to her face, the heady warmth settling around her.

"That's right, ignore what you fear the most and maybe it will go away. Just like a child who tries to close their eyes and count in the dark until they can push their fears aside."

"I'm not afraid of anything especially you," she defiantly glared back lifting her chin as arrogantly as she had seen him do himself so many times. "And I'm not a child."

She wasn't going to pay attention to him any more. Whatever he was thinking to do or whatever plans he was making didn't concern her at the moment. Neville would help her she was certain of it and he would have the papers in a matter of weeks. Turning to go to the counter and pull out her journals of the shop layout and inventory she crossed her arms and straightened her back with an overconfident air.

"I'd like to believe that, but we both know you're lying. I guess that's just something we'll have to work on. So, the storeroom today is it?" He watched her pull a chair up behind the counter and studiously look through a mountain of papers. She never raised her eyes to meet his when she answered.

"Yes, unless you want Percy to come back tomorrow and find out how truly inept and lazy you are. Strange, really that he's taken such an interest in me. I bet he'd be inclined to toss you out on your noble Malfoy bum if he thought it would make me happy." She loudly shuffled the pages of one thick journal in particular suddenly feeling triumphant that she could throw Percy's admiration for her in his face.

Appearing engrossed in her activity it was sometime before she raised her head and to her surprise Malfoy was gone. Surprising her even more Malfoy stayed out of her way for the remainder of the day and night actually working on the project she had requested. The storeroom was not finished by any means, but it was improved as he had cleaned and organized somewhat. She almost thanked him when he came stalking out for the night, but thought better of it when he flashed her a dangerous scowl. So instead she kept to her better senses and silently went up to her apartment.


	7. Mystifying Intentions

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well_.

Chapter 7

Secret Intentions

Hermione woke earlier the next morning and did not eat much breakfast. There was only one day left until she opened, and there was still so much to do. Of course, if Malfoy left her alone again everything would get done, she was sure of it.

As the day before he was quiet and did not acknowledge her, which was a mixed blessing. He was angry, that was apparent, but he had no reason to be. She was seeing to it that Neville extricated him from their farce of a marriage, and he would be free in time to seek a suitable life for himself as he saw fit.

Diligently, he worked offering her no indication that he even knew she was about. Just as attentively she straightened shelves, washed front windows, and labeled items well through the morning. When it was getting close to noon she took a break, leafing through the case concerning the little elf from Fred and George's shop earlier in the week. Finding one of the papers missing she frowned and realized it must be upstairs on her desk as she was skimming through the same folders the night before. Stepping from behind the counter she ran up to grab the paper in question.

When she came downstairs she stopped at the base of the staircase, a thought suddenly occurring to her. She hadn't checked to see how he had managed with the cellar or if he'd satisfactorily seen the job through. Listening, she could still hear him off in the back of the storeroom, so he was in no position to discover her if she inspected his progress below. Curious, and assuming that in the daylight it was surely safe without thinking he could corner her again, she crept down bringing to life several candles on her way.

Pausing at the bottom of the stairs she saw it was as filthy as it was the day before, save for the cot in the corner where he had at least had the good grace to neatly fold the sheets down and fluff the pillow. Rolling her eyes with extreme annoyance she glanced to the side to see the same pile of empty boxes that had not been disposed of, and the same grimy streaks on the small rectangular windows at the top of the ceiling. This arrangement was not boding well in the least.

She spun about to leave and rant at him for his disregard of her orders, nearly tripping over the very person she was determined to lecture soundly. "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't prowl around like that. It's considered rude to walk up on people without their knowing."

"Yes, that's much better," he ignored her completely, taking in her nice long robes that covered what he was sure to be casual and modest attire.

"You didn't clean a thing down here, but that's your choice if you want to live like a pig. Percy will be inspecting your work performance, and I suggest you try and make an effort today to finish the storeroom and organize it." Thoroughly frustrated and growing uneasy seeing that he was blocking her exit she pretended not to be affected in the least. Determinedly, she proceeded to make her way up the stairs again.

He leaned his arm out placing a palm on the other side of the wall, successfully preventing her from passing. "You won't open the door to Weasley or anyone else wearing what you were yesterday morning. Is that clear?"

Her first instinct was to be angry that he still was not listening. Then she realized what he had said, no ordered rather. "Excuse me, but I don't think you have any right to tell me what I will and won't do. Now, you are in my way, please move."

"According to a certain certificate I'm in possession of I have every right, like any husband would, to want his wife to be modest in the presence of other men." On this subject she was going to relent. Percy had been far too appraising and though it appeared Hermione had not noticed, Malfoy was not pleased. Also, there was Neville's assertion that Percy was thinking of Hermione in terms that were more than friendly.

"Well, as I'm a widow and don't have a husband then I suppose what I choose to do is my own business," she snapped backed trying again to push her way past him. "And I disagree, I'm always very modest, as though it should matter to you one way or the other."

"You persist in this delusion that you were ever a widow," he said shaking his head staring down at her wearing a maddening smirk.

"My husband is dead, the agreement that helped me obtain my inheritance was fulfilled adequately, and there's nothing further to discuss. Let me by." She stepped up again attempting to shove him from her path.

Any appearance of humor disappeared as he stepped down and began advancing on her. "This isn't amusing any more. You're a married woman, and whether you want to admit it to the world yet or not you won't keep up this pretense with me."

She kept backing away not surprised, but uneasy nonetheless when her back hit the wall behind her. Bracing both hands on either side of her shoulders Malfoy leaned in until his lips were almost pressed to her ear. "Don't think that at any time I won't hesitate to hand over the certificate to Weasley and make it perfectly clear that your husband is very much alive. What's to say I shouldn't go to the Ministry this minute and do just that? After all my freedom is at stake."

"Go ahead," she dared, standing extremely still to avoid inciting him in any way. She didn't know what he was about suddenly acting as though it bothered him in the least that Percy should see her in a nightgown, or that she wished to keep their marriage a secret. Why did he seem so eager to make the knowledge public?

"Don't tempt me," he warned through clenched teeth. "Still, I can't imagine that you're really ready to accept the consequences of your actions. You're trying to be brave and that's impressive, but you know in the end you aren't going to win this battle.

"Why won't you just agree to be reasonable, and we can obtain a secret divorce? In a couple of years when I've managed to save enough money you're welcome to it, it's yours, and you can buy your freedom then." This was getting more impossible by the second. She knew he'd love to see Neville punished, and herself as well, but she sensed something else behind his attitude toward their bargain.

"We're not going to talk about divorce anymore. Some choices you have to live with for the rest of your life," he murmured before crudely flicking his tongue over the outline of her ear. "Fate cheated you not me, and I'm grateful for it."

"You're doing this as some sort of twisted revenge for something that I haven't figured out yet, and I won't let you," she hissed twisting from his reach as much as she was able. Unsuccessfully she put her fists up to his chest to keep him from edging closer. He only moved to catch her wrists with one hand and pin her arms behind her.

"I'm not going to play any games. Now this would obviously not have been the first choice for either of us, but what's done is done." Slowly he moved until his lips just hovered above her own. "You're not getting rid of me. I thought I made that obvious the other night."

Hermione's gasp was silenced when he brought his mouth firmly down on hers. This wasn't possible. He was surely just testing her to see how far she would let him humiliate her. She struggled to free her hands but only succeeded in having him tighten his grip and press himself closer into her body.

He was almost impatient she thought as she felt fingers twining in her hair, pulling her head back and tilting her face upward. This obviously gave him better access, and she did not have a moment to object before he deepened the kiss thrusting his tongue inside her mouth. He was tasting, and devouring, as he had done that night in the carriage. Again, the violent assault on her inexperienced body caught her off guard, as she was amazed someone so cool and reserved was capable of such a display.

Without warning, and against her own better judgment, she became aware of she was responding on some distant level. Locked somewhere inside of her, or any woman, there was a hidden desire to be kissed so passionately as to almost be consumed. Tentatively she relaxed, until she was leaning into him as well, finding her balance affected as her mind could only focus on the unexpected warmth and yearning spreading steadily throughout her body.

He felt her yielding but did not slacken his hold just yet, discovering that dominating her in this manner was stimulating. Pressing more firmly against her he found the robes he had wished for her to be wearing just moments ago to be a hindrance. Deciding she wasn't likely to resist he reluctantly released her wrists to reach up and unclasp the heavy garment sending it cascading to the floor. She gasped into his mouth and stiffened slightly, but he was not discouraged. Deliberately he stroked her tongue with his own, urging her to react in kind.

Hesitantly at first she brought her arms from behind her with her thoughts wavering between using her freedom to push him away or pull him closer. She was beginning to doubt he was only seeking to frighten her or shame her, which alarmed her all the more. If that was not his plan then she did not understand his goal.

Still, the contrast of his hard body against hers, and his lips slanting roughly and repeatedly over her own, kept her from more rational thoughts. Astonishing even herself she slowly began to wrap her arms about him, unaware for a time that she was now returning the kiss with as much eagerness as she possessed. Giving in to her more frivolous emotions was wrong, and she realized her error when her surrender became evident to him as well.

Warm fingers were stealing beneath her cotton shirt causing her skin to tingle wherever they traced patterns over her stomach. Inching up further those same fingers began brushing the underside of one breast through the thin fabric of her bra. She sucked in a shallow breath when he abruptly tore his lips from hers to nip the tender skin on the side of her neck. Then, he soothed the bite with a gentle swirl of his tongue.

A loud rapping on the door above caught her attention. The sound came again, more insistently the next time, and in a daze she tried to disengage herself from him, reality returning to her some degree. "There's someone at the door," she whispered raggedly, attempting to pull away.

An arm encircled her waist and held her tightly in place. "Make them wait," Malfoy growled against her throat, determined not to allow another intrusion as had occurred that night in the carriage when Longbottom spoiled the evening. He'd waited for a year or more, and whoever was so impatient upstairs could go to hell and back as long as they left them in peace.

"Mione'? You here? The door's unlocked, that's not exactly safe without the shop officially opened yet," Ron's voice drifted down the stairs causing Hermione to become conscious of her actions.

Growing panicked she struggled, now with greater strength. "It's Ron, let me go," she whispered frantically, fighting a losing battle as he refused to release her.

Gods damn that prick Weasel. He'd hex his balls off for this the next chance he got. Slowly, and still not loosening his grip he stepped back staring down at her purposefully. "We'll finish this later," he promised raking her with a blatantly heated gaze.

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, and denying his statement, she jerked back with as much force as possible, finally freeing herself. Not giving him any time to consider overtaking her again she rushed past him, taking the stairs as quickly as possible.

Pausing at the top she realized she had left her robes behind, but did not consider it wise to go and retrieve them. Straightening her clothing again she pulled the cotton t-shirt down smoothing it out and glanced down, now sorry that she had chosen to wear cropped shorts. At the time she had thought to keep herself from getting too hot in her long robes, now it exposed her more than she wished.

As she pushed the curtain aside that hid the back of the shop, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and checked to make sure her hair was not in too much disarray. "Ron, you shouldn't just walk in you know. It's bloody rude really," she chided, trying to appear as her usually poised self.

"Sorry, but with Malfoy creeping around I was worried when you didn't answer the door right away," he defended himself, peering at her strangely. "You look a little flushed are you all right?"

"Just fine, it's hot in here though don't you think?" she commented casually, busying herself with searching through her research papers.

Coming around behind the counter she grabbed a file that contained her current research on spells for younger students. "What brings you by this afternoon?" she asked as though nothing at all was out of sorts.

"Checking up on you actually. You plan to send Malfoy back with Percy don't you?" Ron was glancing around as though expecting the subject of the conversation to appear out of thin air.

"No, I'm going to try and make the situation work, and if it becomes too difficult I'll think of something else. Who knows, he might be able to come up with the money to reimburse me for my payment to the Ministry and gain his freedom early," she explained, somehow worried that Malfoy's intentions were anything but seeking his freedom just yet.

"You what!" Ron shouted in outrage and disbelief. "You're going to keep that bloody prick under foot? Hermione you know what he's capable of, and he can't think to help you at all. He'll only cause trouble if you ask me."

"My mind is made up Ron so let's not argue about it. I need the help and…" she paused a brilliant idea coming to her all at once. "Say, do you think Fred and George could use an extra hand at times?"

Frowning thoughtfully, Ron only momentarily relented on the subject of her daft decision to give Malfoy an opportunity to prove himself worthy of a second chance. "Possibly, I could ask them if you want. Why?"

"Percy never said anything about Malfoy only being strictly bound to help me. What if, to give myself some peace, I send him over to their shop sometimes," she smiled, finding a tiny solution to her problem. It did not solve things by any means, but if she could be free of him for any small amount of time it would help her devise a way to reason with him.

"I doubt they'd be overly anxious to deal with him either, but if it would help you out then I don't see why they wouldn't take him off your hands now and then," Ron decided, liking the idea very much as it would keep the devious git away from his friend, if for only an afternoon.

Feeling triumphant that she had managed to free herself in a small capacity she smiled hopefully. Malfoy didn't appear during Ron's entire visit, making her friend suspicious, but she explained he was organizing the storeroom in back. She was considerably suspicious herself as she was certain he was listening to every word she and Ron spoke, but he never revealed himself whatsoever.

Ron stayed going over some of her incantations with her and discussing some of her elf clients until late afternoon. "That one the other day at Fred and George's, his family the Du Mariers, have been asking questions and I think we'd best get him out of the city as soon as possible."

"Where though? I've already used my parents estate near Neath far too many times. Though it's fairly isolated people will start asking questions about little elves hopping around the place eventually," she frowned in earnest. "Do you think your brother in Romania might be able to help? The mountains can be peaceful and sparsely populated."

Ron grew thoughtful chewing on his bottom lip. "Probably, but just this once mind you. Mum, still doesn't think you're taking these threats seriously enough you know. One of these days these notes will stop coming, and they very well could simply try and carry out their warnings."

Hermione looked away then, not wanting to relate the tale of the poison candy just now. Ron wouldn't help her any longer if he knew there had been an actual attempt made just the morning prior. "I'm taking them seriously, but if Prinny can't get a chance to earn his freedom then everything I've worked for is worthless. I'll meet you at Fred and George's at the end of the week. We'll make sure to get the elf safely to Romania, and then we'll take things from there."

"All right, but I'm starting to wonder if you shouldn't just let the Ministry handle something like this."

"Because the Ministry has never handled it before, and I don't think with their new rehabilitation plan they'd be inclined to start taking an interest in it now," she sighed, growing annoyed that Ron was thinking to discourage her.

When Ron realized the time he reluctantly made his excuses to leave. "Percy's got me coming in tomorrow early. Don't know what he thinks really, but maybe this will work out. I'd still feel better helping you here at the shop with Malfoy around."

"There's nothing to worry about. He's behaving himself," she lied easily, hoping Ron, who knew her so well, could not discern how troubled she truly was.

"If you say so, but when Harry gets back from Paris with Ginny I'm going to make sure one or both of them checks in on you like I said before."

On his way out the door Ron turned to her one last time. "I probably won't see you until the end of the week. Don't hesitate to owl Percy or me if Malfoy tries to intimidate you or refuses to uphold his part of the agreement."

Nodding through a forced smile Hermione promised, her heart pounding furiously as the door closed and Ron disappeared from sight. She was alone with Malfoy again, and her fears were compounded when she turned after locking the door to find him leaning against the wall. Even across the room she could see he was visibly annoyed, and that was what confused her the most. She thought he would be relieved when he had time to himself.

Straightening her shoulders she frowned, and a mask of authority fell over her face. "Did you finish the storeroom or clean the cellar for that matter? I can't help you if Percy discovers on his own how useless you are."

"Sending me to the Weasleys' shop won't change anything," he said evenly, but his low tone was more unsettling than if he had simply shouted at her in his obvious anger.

"My shop is much smaller and won't have as much business. It'd be selfish not to share some help with my friends," she replied stiffly, and intending to march past him without a second glance.

"Did you forget something?" he asked pointedly, pulling her crumpled robes from his side, dangling them before her.

Spitefully she grabbed for the garment, but he held it back. Deliberately he draped the robes about her shoulders from behind her, clasping them together. Slowly, and far from innocently, he smoothed the front of the material out gliding leisurely over her breasts before settling his hands on her waist. "No, I don't plan on cleaning that drafty cellar of yours."

"As I said, live like an animal and see if I care," she spat back.

"I don't plan on spending much time down there at all, so whether or not it's livable doesn't concern me really." He felt her muscles going rigid and decided she was nervous. Whatever progress had been made before Weasley's arrival was for nothing.

"That's your choice if you decide to escape and ruin whatever chance you have at redeeming yourself," she replied with some strain as he began to idly run a finger over the nape of her neck. She hated herself for feeling so weak at such a meaningless gesture.

"Oh, I'm not talking about escaping, but it would get lonely down there, and I've been alone for too long don't you agree?" He waited for her reaction to the meaningful comment, actually smiling when she shivered slightly.

It amazed him how easily she could react to mere words or the simplest touch. As if to gauge her vulnerability yet more he slid her hair aside and drop a soft kiss just below her hairline. She inhaled sharply and trembled again, making him marvel at such an innocent reaction.

Most women would have leaned into him moaning and making themselves wanton and eager. Hermione tried to fight every feeling he exacted from her and still failed, making him aware of how much control he could exert over her in this manner. The thought of having that power intrigued him and thrilled him as much as the knowledge that she had been a virgin that night in the carriage.

His veiled statement finally penetrated her mind, and she sighed with fury, jerking away from his loose grip. Not uttering another word or daring to glance behind her she climbed the stairs up to her apartment, feeling his eyes following her until she was out of sight. Recalling how easily she had lost her self-control, and finding no reason for it that convinced her she could stop him from overwhelming her again, she decided that she would be locking the cellar door at night from the outside.

After her door slammed upstairs he furiously stalked down into the cellar hating himself for weakening. His wife, the woman who in the eyes of the law belonged to him, was barely a few rooms away, no longer out of his reach, and he had let her walk away again. After months of waiting and preparing when the moment had come to confront her he faltered at every opportunity.

Standing in the center of the musty cellar only made Malfoy more enraged. This is what he had been reduced to, considering a drafty basement home. True, it was an improvement to a prison cell, but it was the lower level of a second hand shop owned by a smug little witch without any status in society. Well, no status that she would admit to freely, and she had not been so very smug lately it seemed.

That was why he hadn't been able to completely humble her as he had wished. She had always fought back, but when he approached her in any way she was visibly afraid, shaking so violently he was surprised she had managed to stand without her knees giving way. Ultimately she would come to accept that he was well within his rights to dominate her, but it wouldn't be as satisfying if she was constantly terrified of him.

He no longer questioned his decision as he had done in the beginning. What little he knew of the outside world was changing now, and if he expected to survive he would have to change as well. Still, things had not been altered so much that the most honor bound traditions did not stand and hold true. In that respect it was the basis for his choice.

After his reprieve the initial relief disappeared when he remembered that he had foolishly made the agreement with Granger. For a time he wondered if death would have been a blessing rather than to be forced to admit that he had married beneath him. Then, it did not seem to matter as much, any more than it had that night in the carriage. Thinking on it further purebloods, half-bloods, mudbloods, what did it mean in the end anyhow? His pureblood hadn't saved him from garnering an order of execution. For all of his father's numerous lectures and long speeches about the advantages of being a pureblooded family where had his father been when he had needed him the most? Dead, and at the hands of an Auror from the Ministry, while trying to prove his worth to Voldemort once again.

Yes, the Wizarding world was changing and the idea of separating wizards and witches by their heritage was becoming archaic. Besides, his father's ideals had died with him. There was no reason to outwardly carry on with such prejudices when the majority of the world did not share the same views. Though he would never be able to look on every mudblood as an equal, Granger's intelligence and cleverness made her unique, and her somewhat tainted heritage could be overlooked he supposed.

There was however strict family customs that he refused to ignore, and neither would his wife. Malfoys did not divorce, nor did they publicly separate or appear anything other than respectable loving couples. If they lived in constant misery behind closed doors then so be it, but to society they exuded the utmost decorum and refinement.

Draco, nevertheless, did not wish to repeat the mistakes of his parents and did not mean to be remotely miserable. Neither did he intend to allow Hermione to think she would ever control him. As far as he was concerned they were intellectual, attractive, and equally matched, save for their positions in society, and he had no intention of allowing her to forsake her vows. It was not the first match he would have chosen for himself, far from it, but she had come to him, she had offered herself, and she was his. Having lost everything in the war to the Ministry he did not plan to let anything he possessed slip away again.

There was still the matter of her obvious denial, and her determination to keep their marriage a secret, but in time she would decide there was no point. Then there was also Percy to deal with, as he would probably feel obligated to try and accuse her of treason or aiding and abetting a criminal. That could be handled as well.

He would persuade her to admit freely that he was her husband, and she would most definitely be the richer for realizing her good luck. Though the family fortune was liquidated his inheritance that had been withheld until after he had served his sentence would be more than enough. Moreover, the Malfoy name was still quite impressive, and even Hermione would be forced to admit it could allow her access to parts of society denied her. She was virtuously ambitious, and connected to a well-known family would aid whatever cause she chose to fight for at the time. It would be mutually beneficial for them both.

It could have been beneficial this very second, if he didn't retreat each time she was on the verge of surrender. That night in the carriage even when she had been afraid of him, for a time if just briefly, she hadn't hated him, hadn't drawn back in fear or revulsion. She enjoyed being touched. There was no mistaking her reactions, and if he had held firm, right now he could be upstairs showing her just how much she liked being touched, everywhere.

He consoled himself that the reason it was her body that he brought to mind at night, when the darkness and loneliness were overwhelming, was for the sheer reason she was the last woman he had known intimately in any way. Usually that reason satisfied him until the frustration of knowing how truly far from reach his dreams were brought him to the conclusion that he was merely making excuses. So, now he settled on a new explanation. Having a naturally possessive nature, knowing that the woman he was lusting after was his wife, and accustomed to getting his own way whenever he wished, it was the waiting that had made her so appealing. What one couldn't have at the time made them want it more, or so the saying went.

Glaring up at the cobwebs he'd stubbornly refused to clean earlier he hoped she could sense his frustration, and appreciate his restraint. Trying to get on amicably with his wife was a new concept, and one that would take time, but he was usually a patient person and patience was well rewarded. His patience, however, was wearing thin and he decided he wasn't going to be sleeping in a basement for much longer. By the end of the month he'd have her wanting him as much as he did her, if not more. Women naturally wanted him, so he felt secure that his plan would work flawlessly.

Feeling in brighter spirits he dusted off the old and possibly rusty cot, testing it with some of his weight before lying down altogether. It was more comfortable than the floor of a cold, wet cell, but upstairs warm in bed with his wife lying naked next to him would have been more satisfying. He was sorry for bringing another image of her to mind, again knowing she was untouchable if for but a little longer. Gods, but he was being too lenient. The moment he had seen her begin to undress the first night upstairs he should have simply approached her, and he most definitely would not be spending the night alone in the cellar.

Decidedly uncomfortable in many ways beyond that of simply not wanting to sleep in a corner of a cellar, Malfoy stretched out on his back and decided to occupy himself with recalling the precise moment she had slipped free of her undergarments. It still surprised him how much difference a few simple years could make, and in Granger's case, as far as he was concerned, it was a welcome improvement.

Closing his eyes he drifted to sleep for the first time not worried if he would wake the next morning, eat, or survive among the Dementors that hovered ominously over him. He was confident where his life was headed now and didn't concern himself with anything else beyond subduing his wife, and reacquiring his family's rightful place in society. Strangely, even the mustiness of the cellar didn't bother him as he could only remember the smell of gardenias and lemons.


	8. Dreams to Plague the Waking Hours

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 8

Dreams to Plague the Waking Hours

Securely locking herself inside her flat Hermione waited apprehensively until she heard the cellar door close. Then, quietly, she crept down and securely locked the door behind him. Rushing back upstairs before she could hear him object she locked her own apartment door, checking it repeatedly before settling in for the night.

The summer air was still muggy despite the fact the sun had long ago dipped below the horizon. Conjuring a cooling current to ripple through her bedroom when she was ready for bed, Hermione slipped into a thin pair of pajamas that were cut short at her hips and sleeveless. Though she was a jumble of thoughts and dread finally she drifted to sleep, desperately trying to force any memories of her disturbing encounter with Malfoy earlier that day from her mind.

During the night her spell must have failed for she tossed and turned as the heat of the dark hours intensified, making her increasingly uncomfortable. Dazed and sweltering beneath the sheer sheet that covered her she threw it aside and fell into a fitful sleep once again. Various images floated through her dreams, the elves she desperately wished to save, and Ron's warnings about the numerous threats she had received. Then, alarmingly, Malfoy's piercing silvery blue eyes appeared as they savagely roamed over her face before he lowered his head for a tormenting kiss. The contact brought her to awareness or so she first thought.

Opening her eyes she realized that her dream continued as Malfoy's lips were on her own, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip until she opened her mouth allowing him to sweep his tongue inside. The buttons on the front of her pajama top were plucked open and large hands covered her breasts. Unable to restrain herself in her dream state Hermione arched upward, begging for pleasure she didn't understand but wanted without question.

Recklessly, Hermione melted back into her pillows letting his hands roam where they willed, moaning as her skin hummed to life. Her hips rose and fell in an instinctive response and, succumbing to the affects of her dream she knew she wouldn't deny him if he continued. Drawing in a ragged breath she sighed, content that she didn't have to contemplate consequences or prudently disengage herself from the man exquisitely seducing her. Even if it was Malfoy it was only a dream, and there was no harm in indulging in one's fantasies while dreaming. Fully lost to her reverie she was not aware when in her next breath she whispered a name softly, one she rarely spoke, Draco.

The man above her froze and retreated. She felt him slipping away from her while she awkwardly reached out to urge him to stay. The room grew cool again and despite the ache of unfulfilled desire her sleep deepened and the dream disappeared.

Bolting upright in bed Hermione clutched a hand to her chest grasping at the top of her pajamas, finding the buttons all in place. Shaking her head to rid herself of the vestiges of her dream she glanced around frantically, expecting to see Malfoy materialize from the depths of her delusion. Gratefully, she discovered she was alone, and nothing had happened. It had been in her mind.

Trying to calm her breathing she could not decide if the real encounter earlier or the one born of her imagination had shaken her more. Before she could blame Malfoy's over zealous nature and intent to intimidate her into responding to him, but what about her own thoughts. She found to her dismay that she could not explain away her own inclination to dream about him in such an intimate way. Shaking from the intensity of the hallucination and her own apprehensions it was sometime before she drifted into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

The next morning the shop opened on schedule but Hermione's fatigue kept her from enjoying it to the fullest. There were numerous customers and well wishers, Arthur and Molly Weasley among them. She thought of them as parents as much as she did her own and was pleased that they took the time to stop in for the grand opening.

Shocking her to her very core Malfoy cordially helped customers when it was needed and refrained from any undue remarks when Fred and George happened to stop in later that afternoon. She was thankful for the large crowd however as it kept her mind focused on the shop and anything other than her dream the previous night. If she had been forced to be alone with Malfoy, locked inside the shop all day, she did not like to think what could have happened.

She was certain he was only trying to seduce her so he could make a fool of her and she wasn't going to have it. Just because he knew the ways a woman's body responded to touch and he thought he could intimidate her didn't mean she had any intentions of giving in. It still made her slightly ill at the turn of events that lead to the night she had been stripped of her virginity, and in all her years she had never thought to have someone she hated so be the first man she'd given herself to.

At the close of the day she could only consider it a successful venture. Though she knew that customer volume would dwindle as the days went by, she was comfortable in the knowledge that she was going to make a tidy profit nonetheless. She could live easily on the sales in her shop and be content she was sure.

When Hermione locked the doors for the night she had momentarily forgotten her disturbing dream and was smiling to herself. Covering the windows she secured everything and began to quietly clean up so everything would be ready to open the next morning. It would have been easier to simply utter the _scourgify_ spell, but she liked the aspect of doing things for herself. Actually, Malfoy should have been sweeping the floors while she restacked books, and resorted through clothing and wands.

Looking around she wondered where he was at and why he was being so silent. He was lounging on a stool behind the counter watching her intently. Immediately she dropped her gaze and went back to straightening her shop.

"You look tired," he said and she heard him climb down from the stool to walk toward her.

"Today was kind of frenzied to say the least, but it went all right I think," she answered noncommittally, hoping he wasn't in the mood to taunt or mock her. For the first time in years she didn't have the energy to argue with him on any subject and wished he would just become bored and go to the cellar for the night.

"Didn't you sleep well last night?" he continued on the same subject, halting a few steps from her while she pushed the broom back and forth.

Hermione froze briefly then went back to her chore. "Yes, of course. Why would you ask that?" Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at him to see if by some chance he knew. Then again, that was foolish. He couldn't possibly know about her dream, and that was all it was.

"No reason," he murmured. "Did you really enjoy yourself today?"

She stopped what she was doing to peer at him in confusion. "What kind of question is that? Of course I enjoyed myself. I have something of my own, not something that someone else gave me. I earned this and the right to be proud of myself. Haven't you ever wanted to do something or have something you earned on your own merit?"

"We're not talking about me, but I am just having difficulty seeing how all of this," Malfoy glanced around him arms outstretched, "can mean so much to you. It's just a building filled with used items that, though they are in good condition, they're still secondhand. To be so desperate to get your inheritance the sum must have been fairly sizable. Why did you waste it on that elvish nonsense and this uneconomical business?"

Now she was angry. He had insulted the one thing that mattered more to her than her heritage, her intelligence. "I don't consider this a wasted effort. I'm living my own life, helping others, and able to survive on what the shop provides in the way of a profit. Well, I hope I will be able to. Not all of us were born into golden nappies and silver rattles Malfoy. The majority of the world has to work to earn what is rightfully theirs. You can't simply take what you want because you expect society to offer you everything on a platter."

"See, that's where you're mistaken," he disagreed, pushing some spell books aside and sitting back on the table behind him. "You're not living your own life, you're living the life expected of you. You're expected to help others, just like you helped Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, and so on all through school. You're expected to live a quiet, little, boring life amongst books and this other drivel. Now I will give the younger Weasel credit for worrying over your dabbling into this elvish idiocy, as I'm familiar with the families whose house elves you're setting free. They're ruthless and they don't make empty threats. I suggest you focus your energy on something else and forget this society of yours."

"You'd like that wouldn't you," Hermione fumed, setting the broom against a wall. "You'd like for me to walk away and let your friends and their evil families keep torturing and abusing the less fortunate."

"I'm not going to lie and say I give a damn about what goes on as far as other's affairs are concerned, but I've made up my mind that you won't continue your work with the elves. Change is coming soon enough, you'll just have to wait for it like everyone else."

She snorted in a very unladylike fashion. "Even shackled, deprived of magic, and thoroughly humbled by your position you're trying to act the conceited lord of the manor. It will be a cold day in hell before you can ever order me about and expect me to follow your lead."

"Actually I am the heir to Malfoy Manor and once we've put this servant and prisoner rubbish behind us I'll have a decent inheritance myself. As for the day hell freezes, it may come sooner than you think," he warned, assessing her attentively.

"Are you trying to start an argument for no reason?" she sighed wearily. "Does it really entertain you that much to ridicule everything I've worked for?"

"I wasn't aware we were arguing," he replied, much too innocently. "Just think about it. Is it worth receiving threats on you life day after day just to sneak around and maybe free an elf here and there? Is it worth driving yourself mad just to find the perfect spot for a stack of books or rack of robes? Is this what you really dreamed of when you were a child? Honestly, I pictured you at the Ministry or as a Professor, still very boring with your books and all, but with much more purpose."

Now, Hermione hated him more than she had previously. She had always thought to be a professor someday if not at Hogwarts then another Wizarding School. How dare he throw her impossible dreams in her face so callously? "What direction my life takes is of no concern of yours," she said in annoyance.

"Of course it is," he stated simply. "I have no intention of living above a dusty old shop and as you've the honor of being my wife. Where I go you go. It's all very straightforward really."

"Neville will have those divorce papers soon and this is all going to be over. I still don't understand why you're hesitating about ending this marriage. Neither of us really wanted it, we made a bargain, both of us effectively took away from it what we wanted. Lets try and be adult about this and walk away." This was growing beyond ridiculous, his attempts to stall any resolution to their dilemma.

"He's wasting his time," Malfoy drawled sounding aggravated. "I meant what I said. I won't sign any papers."

"Gods I don't understand you. Why won't you end this? We hate one another. You're practically dying I'm sure to hex or curse me off the face of the earth as much as I'd like to see the last of you," she cried impatiently, and becoming more and more confused by his refusal to cooperate in dissolving their marriage.

"My reasons are my own and you're getting irrational again. At the moment I don't think I want to discuss them." He stood up, but to her surprise didn't come toward her. "Hate is such a strong word. You really should be careful how you toss it about. I might actually believe you someday."

She heard him leave and start down the stairs to the cellar. Before he could think to pursue another disagreement she followed after him, locking him away for the night. Beyond the door she heard him laughing at her measures to keep him sequestered, but ignored him. Though tired, she finished tidying the shop and went upstairs to bed, not bothering to find something to eat for dinner.

She felt like she had been sleeping for ages when her dreams became vivid, again. The room was so sweltering she couldn't breath, and tossing the sheet from her as she had done the night before, she still found no relief. As though in a trance she opened her eyes knowing she was not seeing anything real but was yet enchanted by her dream.

Malfoy was standing at the foot of her bed hands braced on the edge of the mattress. At least he was fully clothed. She did not even want to imagine herself dreaming of him in any other way. Despite the heat in the room she grasped for the sheet she had discarded to cover herself with. With a wave of his hand he sent the sheet flying to the floor, out of her reach, and rounded the bed, staring down at her with mysterious purpose.

Even in her dream she knew he was dangerous now. Something had provoked him, and she did not know what. With a small cry she tried to roll away but she felt his weight on the bed before he pulled her back and covered her body with his trapping her. A rush of emotions flooded through her mind as though they were not her own. Want, need, desire, anger, confusion there were too many to simply decipher one and the reason for it.

"So, you think you hate me do you?" he whispered drawing her hands above her head and holding her wrists tightly. "That's unfortunate for you then, and you'd better try and change your opinion."

Whatever resistance she thought to offer was lost when firm lips that were becoming far to tempting and familiar took possession of her own. Without hesitation, or coercion, she opened her mouth meeting his searching tongue, no longer denying she secretly enjoyed his attentions. Of course, as long as they were safely in her dreams and far from reality she amended.

She thought he realized he didn't need to restrain her when he released her wrists, but he did so only to continue about his goal. Unlike the night before he didn't gently pluck her buttons free. Rather, he wrapped a fist in her hair as if to hold her to him more steadily and took his other hand ripping the front of the pajama top open. The tiny pearl like buttons scattered over the bed and floor, making soft clinking sounds on the hardwood.

"Do you hate me when I do this?" he asked raggedly against her lips cupping one breast and flicking the nipple with his thumb until it hardened.

Hermione didn't answer. She couldn't even moan, the heat in the room and wandering throughout her body was so intense. Her only response was to raise herself closer to allow whatever he wished.

"Or this," he moved to softly nip the skin just below her ear then suck ever so lightly until she gasped, reaching out to clutch his shoulders.

"Say you don't hate me," he urged, smiling wickedly as he kept stroking her quivering skin,

She mewled softly, closing her eyes when the lids seemed so heavy. "Say it," he demanded almost desperately.

"I don't hate you," she sighed brokenly, her body taking on a will of its own and no longer obeying her. She was surprised she had even managed to speak. His lips were about to settle on hers again when his name slipped from her in a soft beseeching whisper, "Draco."

As before he halted, every muscle in his body going absolutely still. Hermione opened her eyes to see what had stopped him, but he was already pulling away. Standing he swiftly disappeared into the mist of her dream and she was too weak to try to rise and go after him.

Morning light was streaming into her room when she was jarred awake by the impact of her dream. Jerking herself upright she ran her hands through her hair, glancing around finding nothing out of place and her top buttoned perfectly up to her neck, as she knew it should be. Sighing with relief she shakily climbed from bed and dressed quickly.

Making breakfast she realized that it was later than she had first thought and hurriedly threw together something that she and Malfoy could eat without taking much time. There was barely half an hour before the shop was about to open, and there were things that had yet to be done.

She dreaded the moment when she would unlock the cellar and see his face in the light of day. Her two dreams had been much too vivid for her liking and she was thankful that it was another two days until the weekend when her shop would be closed, leaving her alone with him. Carefully undoing the latch she opened the door not bothering to call to him that she had done so.

He appeared moments later looking dispassionately at what breakfast she had provided. "This is all you can find to eat?"

"You're welcome to starve like you did in prison if you want," she snapped between bites of toast while she lifted the curtains from the front windows and sunlight streamed through. Good, he was going to be surly this she could handle and understand. It would help her forget how devastating he could be in her dreams.

"This I won't miss," he muttered under his breath but grudgingly ate what was before him.

"You could make yourself something else. I've left enough food downstairs for you in that small ice chest. You've got seven more years of it so you might as well quit complaining now." He would rather die than lower himself to use a Muggle device, but if he was hungry enough he could open the chest, she thought impatiently.

"So you think," he said with an unmistakable tone of superiority.

Rolling her eyes she wasn't about to engage in his delusion that he was going to be free any day. Their marriage was another matter altogether, and for one day she didn't want to have to think on it. Finishing her food she set her plate aside behind the counter and went about resorting some books on the far wall.

Somehow history books had gotten all jumbled in with maps and atlases of the world. Sighing with frustration she wheeled the long ladder from the corner of the room and positioned it in the history section against the ceiling high bookcase. Stacking the five books that were misplaced in her arms she climbed up slowly.

Malfoy happened to glance up and see her intentions, actually shaking his head incredulously. She was carrying a stack of books that probably weighed more than half of what she did and awkwardly making her way up a ladder that shook precariously with every step she took. Annoyed that he felt the need to care at all he walked over to lean against the bookcase, certain she would either drop the books or fall from the ladder.

"Did you need something?" she asked, paying close attention to where her feet fell next not wanting to miss one rung of the ladder.

"While you were up there I thought I'd check to make sure you're dressing appropriately," he said mischievously, pulling on the hem of her robes to lift them and peer upward.

"Malfoy if you rate certain parts of your anatomy worthy at all you'll let go of my robe this instant," she warned, unable to twist in anyway to free herself.

"You'd be hurting yourself as well if you hex my more valuable parts," he teased back, but dropped the hem, more interested in seeing she didn't break her neck if she slipped from the unsteady ladder.

"Gods, you're vulgar," she hissed nearly to the top shelf. "I swear you'd try and find some way to twist anyone's words to your advantage."

"Would you just pay attention to what you're doing," he ground out harshly, moving to hold the ladder steady when it swayed again.

"If only Percy knew how disrespectful you really were. He'd take you back and I wouldn't have to …" she stepped up on the last rung as it turned once under her foot and then snapped in half. Dropping the books and hearing them crash to the floor she couldn't maintain her balance when the rung just below the broken one also gave way. "Draco," she cried out uneasily. There was no time to adjust herself for a fall and she plunged downward.

Before she hit the floor arms caught her around the waist, and she felt Malfoy breaking her fall. Landing gracelessly in a heap below the ladder she heard him groan and her own leg crumpled beneath her at a painful angle. For a moment neither said a word, with Hermione glancing up at the broken ladder.

"I told you to pay attention," Malfoy growled behind her, rolling her from him slightly to gain a more comfortable position.

"I was, the rung up top broke," she defended, disengaging herself and trying to come to her feet.

"That's no surprise as that ladder must be nearly a century old," he said, standing and glaring at her. He could not be sure if he was angry that she had so unceremoniously fallen on him or because she had been careless with her own safety.

"Oh, you'd find anything you could to insult whatever I own wouldn't you," she accused, testing to see if her ankle could bear her weight. To her disappointment she stumbled, a slight twinge coursing through the ankle and up her leg.

Mortifying her even further Malfoy caught her again, preventing her from taking another spill onto the wood floor. "You won't use that ladder again. You'll order yourself a new one today."

"Let me go. I can walk and heal myself thank you." She tried to twist away from him but he wasn't in the mood to be reasonable. "I don't like for you to touch me. Let go!"

"Liar," he said smiling against her ear taking the opportunity to enjoy the scent of gardenias in her hair. "You like it too much."

"Conceited prat," she muttered wondering if she was imagining it or was he smelling her hair? That did not seem right for Malfoy to be acting so docile or like he was actually enjoying being near her. "I need to unlock the door," she mumbled, and his hand fell away from her.

Limping vaguely she opened the shop for the day and quietly went in back to whisper a few healing incantations for her ankle. When she was out of sight Malfoy inspected the ladder climbing only high enough to examine the rungs that had broken away. Expecting to see worn or rotten wood he was surprised when there was a perfectly cut slit in the rung, just below the last one that had split in two.

Climbing down he picked the pieces of wood up from the floor and looked at them carefully. As he suspected there was a faultless edge where the two pieces should meet in the center. If it had merely broken from use and age the pieces would have been jagged instead of appearing evenly cut down the middle.

Someone had tampered with the ladder and as he would have known if anyone had entered the shop at night, it happened yesterday, most likely when she had opened. With people coming and going all day there would have been no way to keep track of everyone and everything. Grabbing the other remnants of the ladder from the floor he pushed the deathtrap to the side of the shop, out of sight somewhat, and hid the evidence behind the counter beneath a large stack of journals. He would collect them before going downstairs for the evening and keep them for later. Malfoy was beginning to think someone wanted very much for Hermione to have fallen from the top, either to injure herself or meet her death.

The bells above the door jangled loudly and Malfoy's attention fell on a tall gangly man entering. He was in thick dark blue robes and perused the shop calculatingly. Narrowing his eyes at the man Malfoy tried to assess him, wondering if he truly was a patron or someone more sinister. "Is there something you are looking for in particular?"

His head snapping up at the sudden question the stranger looked flustered and shook his head offering no further answer. He kept his face from view and stayed to the front of the shop trying to be inconspicuous. This only succeeded in making Malfoy even more suspicious. "You're certain there is nothing you need help finding?"

The man stopped in mid step and did not respond for a long time. Malfoy rounded the counter and decided to approach him, instinctively knowing something was not right as far as the man was concerned. "Perhaps we don't have anything here that interests you then," he stated, coming to stand before the customer.

"I am looking for a specific book, but I don't think it's here. Good day," the shopper said stiffly, and tried to pass, but Malfoy blocked his path.

"Miss Granger might be able to find it for you if you want. Why don't you give her the title and…" Malfoy pressed trying to see how the man would react to hearing Hermione's name, and if his claim was truthful that he indeed was looking for something rather than sneaking about.

"Stand aside Mr. Malfoy," the customer stated with authority and a tone that Malfoy recalled well.

Shocked he studied the man closely, refusing to let him leave. "Professor Snape?" It couldn't be though. The man was either dead or hiding somewhere, lost forever.

"Stand aside!" he muttered tersely, pushing a perplexed Malfoy from his path.

The door slammed shut behind the mysterious customer and Malfoy stared after him, knowing immediately that his old professor had undeniably been standing in the shop moments ago. Why had he come, and what was he really looking for? His mind drifted to the box of poison chocolates and the ladder. Surely he was not behind those incidents. No, Snape wouldn't waste his time with Hermione, but he also could not have known he was here either.

"Did they buy anything?" Hermione asked, pushing past the curtain and coming out to the front of the shop. She was walking much better now, with no hint of injury whatsoever.

Malfoy kept looking out the front windows hoping to see which direction the professor had gone, but found he had already dwindled into the crowd. "No, we didn't have the book he was looking for," he said absently.


	9. Percy's Objective

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 9

Percy's Objective

The family of the house elf Hermione wished to safely escort out of London made numerous inquiries until the trip was impossible to manage. They would have to wait for the family to exhaust their current efforts before trying to get the little thing to safety. So she, Ron, and the twins waited, and Hermione tried to focus on her shop to keep her mind occupied rather than worry that the poor dear would be discovered.

Malfoy took to hovering more than was usual and by the end of the third week she was both frustrated and curious as to his attentive behavior. Whenever the shop was open he stayed out front watching each customer as though they might pilfer an item here or there. She didn't understand why he would care really. They were her things and it would probably amuse him if she did fail in this venture or her shop was the victim of theft.

Strangely, he was also tame and did not try to terrorize her or broach the subject of their marriage as he had during those first days. Neither was he an outgoing worker, but he wasn't as slovenly as she first thought he would be. He only did enough to pass the time and keep up appearances, as Percy had taken to dropping in unexpectedly at all times of the day, and would watch him persistently to see that he was making an attempt.

That was something different altogether, Percy's constant visits. They had increased in the last month and nearly every day he would stop in to apprise himself of Malfoy's progress. Then, when he was satisfied that Malfoy was making an effort he took to talking to her for great lengths of time.

Despite his severe stance on life in general Percy was obviously trying to be friendly and enjoyed discussing some of the same topics she did as well. He wasn't as laid-back as Ron, or as kindly as Harry, but it was a help to have company other than Malfoy to talk with. With Ron's new job taking more of his time than he would have liked and Ginny and Harry staying in Paris a month longer for some mysterious reason she had no one really to communicate with. Percy was proving not as dull as Ron had always made him out to be.

It was just as well that Harry and Ginny wouldn't be returning for a time yet. She hadn't owled them with the news of her decision to take Malfoy in and did not think it was appropriate to simply drop such a monumental piece of information into a simple note. They would disagree with her as much as Ron to be sure, and the longer she could hold off on any quarrels the better.

During Percy's visits Malfoy was quiet and subdued, speaking when spoken to, and uncharacteristically docile. He also never left their sight, as was his habit lately of watching her with scrutiny. This infuriated Percy and caused Hermione to wonder at his reasons. If he had been anyone else she would have thought he was acting protective, but as he was Malfoy, he probably sought to annoy and torment in whatever subtle way he could.

"You've done well for yourself Hermione," Percy commented one day looking about with approval in his eyes.

Straightening a large rack of robes that she had just acquired the day before Hermione smiled and glanced over her shoulder. "Thank you Percy."

"I must say you're also handling this situation with Malfoy extremely well. He actually seems to be capable of undertaking something industrious aside from sitting about concocting duplicitous schemes," he remarked, nodding to indicate Malfoy studiously assorting titles in a large box of books.

"Percy he's trying I do believe," Hermione defended, taking her attention from the robes for a moment to cast a glance at Malfoy. He was engaged in his task or so it seemed, but she knew he was absorbing their conversation, listening to make certain she did not appeal to Percy and have him sent back to prison.

"I haven't really inspected his living quarters," Percy said thoughtfully then. "I'm assuming he keeps them immaculate as I know you wouldn't abide anything less."

That was something else entirely, Hermione thought with a wry grin. "Of course, but I don't venture down very often. Everyone deserves their privacy I think."

"True, but he's committed acts against the Ministry, and so, many of his rights are denied him. As common practice I should have a look to make certain there's nothing out of the ordinary you know."

Malfoy did pause then, Hermione noticed, and threw a dangerous glare at Percy's back before he thought better of it. Grudgingly, she couldn't blame him. She was as protective of her own space in her flat as anyone else. Also, the cellar was as filthy as it had been the day Malfoy arrived. Percy would be sure to notice the dust and debris that had not been cleared away for such a long time.

"Would you mind if I stepped below?" Percy asked, but more for formality sake as he was already off toward the back of the shop.

"Actually, I was hoping you could check Malfoy's manacles for me," she rushed out finding that excuse the most inane she had ever heard herself. "He's been civil and polite, but I want to make certain he stays that way. No magic and all you know."

Percy halted, scowling in Malfoy's direction. "Has he given you reason to think he might be anything but courteous?"

"No, not at all, just wanted to make sure," she pressed.

Percy was suspicious of Malfoy, and Malfoy she knew was plotting ways in his mind to do her grievous harm for setting Percy upon him. Ignoring them both she breezed by, slipping behind the curtain. "Please, just check to make sure they are secure and I'll be in the cellar waiting for you so you can take a look about."

Hearing Percy grumble something behind her, Hermione quietly crept down the stairs and taking her wand from her robes whispered, _"Scourgify."_

Instantly dust and grime disappeared and there was a distinctly pleasant smell in the air. She hated cleaning in such a manner, it made her feel lazy, but there was no help for it presently. Malfoy had better continue to behave himself after she had saved him from Percy's wrath.

Moments later Percy appeared behind her. True to his nature he meticulously went over the entire area leaving nothing unturned, literally. Everything was out of sorts once he had peered throughout the lower part of the building. Nodding to himself he started back upstairs leaving Hermione vaguely angry at his careless regard for what little Malfoy possessed. The few items of clothing he had were torn from the tiny satchel he brought with him and the cot was overturned in the corner. She understood maintaining a prisoner's quarters was necessary, and was surprised Percy hadn't checked sooner, but did they really have to make such a grand production?

"Everything seems in order Mr. Malfoy. I know you intend to keep it that way." Percy didn't even bother to look at the man when he spoke just continued past the counter, missing the obviously incensed gaze projected in his direction.

Hermione appeared next not daring to look at Malfoy now, feeling the tension emanating from him even as she stood by the counter a decent distance away. "Thank you Percy. I trust Malfoy's still not considered a threat?"

"Locked up tightly as he should be," Percy assured her with a placating grin. "I suspected nothing less. Near impossible to rid yourself of those manacles. I wouldn't worry."

Little do you know Percy, she wanted to say sadly, but held her tongue. "Well, then I do feel safer."

Percy was about to start for the front door but stopped suddenly as though a thought occurred to him. "Mr. Malfoy make yourself useful in the back. There is something I need to discuss privately with Miss Granger."

Hermione waited then to see if Malfoy would obey Percy. She knew he listened to her only when he felt like it, and because at the time it might amuse him. Having a direct order from Percy might send him into a fit of rage. He'd been too civilized lately, there was bound to be something poised to set his temper flaring.

"Miss Granger, is there anything you need in back," Malfoy asked, but he was not pleasant.

"Um, yes bring out that box of potion books that I received yesterday," she said, for lack of anything else.

Silently he stalked back into the storeroom leaving Hermione alone with Percy as the Ministry Official had wished. "Now that I have your attention I was hoping to ask you a question of a rather delicate nature," Percy began, approaching her resolutely.

"Something to do with the elves?" Hermione asked, fearful that the Ministry might side with the family of the current elf she was intent on saving.

"No, nothing to do with work or otherwise. I was wondering if you were at all fond of Muggle opera?"

Raising a perplexed eyebrow Hermione did not understand why he'd care to know. "I suppose. I've never been personally, but I've heard that it can be entertaining."

"Generally Muggles tend to muck up the finer arts such as music, no offense as I do not consider you of that sort, but there is something intriguing about opera wouldn't you say? Perhaps you would like to join me Saturday for the evening. I believe La Bohème will be performed." Standing very seriously Percy did not appear nervous or ruffled. He had been very straightforward and looked to be sure of her response.

"Percy, I will have to make sure that I'm able, but…" Hermione stumbled haplessly over her words, stunned that Percy had actually gone so far as to request what she assumed he meant to be a date.

There was a loud crash from the back of the shop and Hermione whirled around staring with some concern. "Malfoy you didn't break anything did you?"

"No Miss Granger, but I'm afraid I can't find the box you've asked for. Would you please come back and see if you remember where you last saw it," Malfoy replied, sounding much too polite.

"Excuse me Percy," she smiled softly. "I won't be a minute."

Stepping behind the curtain she couldn't see Malfoy anywhere and the box she had been thinking of was to the right of the curtain. Frowning she walked farther back totally unprepared when a hand clamped over her mouth and she was hauled backward between two sets of shelves. As always she found her wrists tightly held behind her back and furious blue and silver eyes hovering above her.

"Tell the insipid little prat that you can't make it to the opera," Malfoy ground out his jaw set tersely.

When he lifted his hand from her mouth she was livid herself. "I'll do no such thing. Percy is a decent man and any woman would be honored to be escorted by him for the evening."

Something flashed to life in his eyes and he twisted her wrists a bit. "I don't like repeating myself. You'll decline the invitation and quit making it look like you'd accept another one."

"Oh really? Maybe I want to go to the opera. Maybe I'll find that Percy is good company and we have more in common that I thought," Hermione whispered back fiercely not really caring if she went, but deciding she'd as soon go as let Malfoy harass her into declining the offer.

"If he knew you were married he wouldn't be so quick to whisk you away for an evening," Malfoy taunted then, wondering if he had the fortitude to keep his hands off of the pompous prick who so high-handedly propositioned his wife.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Percy is aware that I'm a widow and I can't mourn the death of my husband forever. Maybe it's time I move on and…"

"You're far from being a widow and you know it!" Malfoy growled shaking her to punctuate his statement. "I swear if you don't stop with this constant denial I'll lose my patience. You don't want that believe me."

"Go ahead and do you worst," she dared, some of her bravery disappearing when his jaw starting jerking briskly.

"Do you really want that?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow and bringing a hand to rest at her throat. "You've never seen me at my worst and somehow I don't think you'd be prepared for it. I'd like to think we wouldn't have to resort to this pointless arguing. If you refuse to be reasonable then I see no need to treat you so delicately."

"Hermione is everything all right? Do you need some assistance?" Percy called from the front, his footsteps echoing through the storeroom when he pushed past the curtain.

Abruptly Malfoy released her, turning to busy himself, looking on at an adjacent shelf. "I do believe this is the box. Miss Granger, would you like me to carry it out front for you?"

"Yes," she stammered, composing herself before Percy came into view.

"I really must be going," Percy said when he came upon them. Everything seemed to be well, but he had wanted to be sure himself of the fact. "Can I safely assume that I will be seeing you at seven o'clock Saturday night? If you like we could also stop in a restaurant before hand."

Everything told Hermione to mind Malfoy's words and say no, but childishly she wanted to thwart her nemesis in anyway she could manage. He had no right to order her about and say who she could and could not see. So taking a deep breath and smiling sweetly she nodded. "That would be perfect. Seven it is."

"Excellent, I will see you then. Malfoy, I must say you're surprising me to no end." That said he let himself out leaving the two alone in the storeroom.

Malfoy dropped the box he had only pretended to be interested in, but did not make any move to grab Hermione again. "You're too stubborn for your own good and you're trying to make a point. This is one particular time you shouldn't have tested me."

Ignoring him Hermione made her way from the storeroom pausing when she heard him speak again. She did not care really what he was going to say, knowing it was a threat or mocking remark. Still, she listened intelligent enough to stay abreast of whatever retaliation he would be planning.

"The choice you made at the Ministry that night when Neville brought you to my cell is still hard for you to accept. I understand somewhat, but there's nothing to do now but live with the consequences. I wouldn't become too fond of Weasley. You don't have a future there."

Not replying, Hermione stormed away, burying herself in numerous papers on spells and such for the remainder of the day. For the past few weeks they had seemingly been pleasant to one another, and as the afternoon progressed, unless a customer happened by they did not speak. Only a few more weeks and Neville would have the divorce papers and she could be free of the debacle she had created for herself. Just a bit longer if she could stand it, and she could put the last year behind her.

Nothing was ever easy however, and Hermione was forced to admit to herself that though she could hold herself aloof and superior in the light of day, at night she could not escape. Without fail she dreamed of Malfoy, even if she tried to charm herself into a sleep so deep dreams could not penetrate. Each night the illusions became more vivid, and arousing, making her wonder if he would but be as gentle in reality as he was during her musings if she could someday come to think of him differently. Yet, the moment she spoke his name, before he could end the torment he set to churning within her, he would pull away, leaving her disappointed and wanting.

That was insane as Malfoy was nothing but a cruel and vile bastard determined to ruin her in anyway he saw fit. Dreams were nothing more than a person's desire brought to life for but a brief period in time. That deduction upset Hermione more, as it would mean she desired him in that way, wanted to know what he could be like if he ever expressed tenderness or warmth.

The night after Percy's visit however she did not dream and blissfully Hermione wondered if she might be ridding herself of her nightly ritual. It was for the best if she never dreamed of him again really. It helped her separate herself from the truth and fantasy, and kept her realizing that he was as wicked as ever and not likely to change.

Pacing behind the shop in the alley Malfoy wasn't truly in the mood to deal with anything other than disposing of Percy. The man had effectively worn on his last nerve, and he was finished listening to him simper and preen around his wife. If he thought he could get away with it at the present time he'd simply kill him and that would be the end of it all really.

Sighing, he realized that was rather drastic and a measure his father probably would have resorted to. Still, even if he couldn't actually engage in the bloody activity he could imagine the sodding Weasel dead and gone, begging for his life. There was no harm in wanting to see the deed done as long as he didn't actually go through with it.

"Mr. Malfoy," low, hoarse, voice whispered from the shadows, drawing him from his pleasant thoughts of watching Percy suffer and fall before him.

"Professor?" he asked, still not quite believing the man was actually there and had sent the owl asking for the meeting.

"You seem to be doing well. I'm surprised to see you've taken to this lifestyle so easily and without complaint."

"Not without complaint," Malfoy amended, coming closer but the professor stepped back pulling the hood of his cape about him more securely.

"Stay where you are," Snape snapped harshly. "I must make this short. It came to my attention that many of the things from Malfoy Manor were sold at auction sometime after your father's death. I've traced most of the belongings to various shops across Europe and such, but there was one thing in particular that I have been unable to find and must have."

"If it came from the manor then I fail to see the reason it should not rightfully belong to me," Malfoy said, his possessiveness coming to the forefront.

Malfoy had heard of the auction Snape spoke of. People picking through their things as if they had every right to touch and taint the valuables that had been part of the Malfoy and Black families for centuries. The worst of all was knowing that his mother had gone into hiding as well. After the contents of the manor had been auctioned she was unable to stay in the husk that was once a glorious mansion. Oddly, he wondered if she was doing well and if she had found a way to comfortably survive the new world that had been brought about after Voldemort's fall. They had never been particularly close but there were memories from his early childhood that were pleasant and she was a part of them.

"As it was your mother's diary I should say the book does indeed belong to her," Snape droned with a dry tone.

"How did my mother's diary come to be auctioned? Who would buy a diary?"

"It was mistakenly thrown into a box of books from the library. I was assured that one Miss Granger had come across some books that were believed to be among the ones with your mother's diary. The binding is green and black and there is no title on the cover. The pages will be very worn, as she kept the journal from the time she was in her seventh year at Hogwarts on," Snape explained impatiently. He knew was taking too long to express his wishes and he could be noticed at any moment.

"I'll try and look for it, but I don't see why I should give it to you." He wasn't being rude or severe, but Malfoy simply did not even know where his mother was so how would Snape find her?

"Because I can deliver the diary myself. Now go inside before the Mudblood witch discovers you're sneaking about." With a wave of his hand he motioned for Malfoy to go toward the back door.

"How will I be able to contact you if I find it, which is to say I trust you to make certain it does go to my mother," Malfoy asked, hoping the professor might inadvertently slip and mention some clue as to his mother's whereabouts. It should not matter where she was, obviously she must be safe or Snape wouldn't be so free to come and look for something as mundane as a diary. Yet it mattered very much in that moment.

"I will be in contact with you again. Do not come to me ever. Now go!"

Malfoy watched the gangly man turn to disappear and stopped him. "Professor."

Noticeably annoyed Snape sighed heavily but twisted around slightly. "Yes Mr. Malfoy

"Is my mother well?" His voice was shaky as though it were not used to such soft words of concern.

"Yes."

It was all the answer he would get but he could not let a certain remark go unanswered. "Professor."

"Gods, what is it now," Snape growled whirling to face Malfoy for the last time.

"When you are speaking of Miss Granger I would appreciate you not using the term Mudblood. Do you understand?"

Snape raised a sleek black brow of amazement. The boy had dared to chastise him and was doing so by defending the honor of a pretentious Muggle-born witch. If he had not heard the distinct air of authority and underlying threat he would not have believed it to be Draco Malfoy at all. Impressed mildly by his audacity he nodded, not really caring if they spoke of the troublesome baggage that was Miss Granger or not. "Very well."

The professor Disapparated before his eyes and Malfoy stared out into the autumn night for a while. Glancing down the alley he knew he could easily make his escape, as Hermione had not placed a charm on him preventing him from leaving the premises of her shop. She still had it in her mind that she was going to send him to the Weasley's shop some afternoons, but luckily she had not done so yet.

One Weasley was more than enough day in and day out. Percy was a hindrance that would not be cast aside and surely Hermione was not so innocent as to believe the drivel he spouted about politics and human rights. It was all a ploy to gather her interest and Malfoy knew it. The true Percy starved prisoners when it suited him, sped up executions, allowed pardons for others as long as they could give him a nice long list of names as to who had practiced the Dark Arts and did still. Percy was not mindful of anything just or proper, far from it.

Longingly staring at the open street Malfoy finally went back into the shop stalking downstairs, and pausing to lock the door as Hermione did nightly so she would not suspect him of walking freely about. Almost immediately he stopped in the middle of the staircase. There was no musty smell or grime on the railing as he made his way down. Everything he owned, paltry amount it was to be sure, was strewn all about, but the cellar itself was clean and tidy. Hermione.

She never used a S_courgify_ spell unless she was rushed or running behind. Yet, knowing Percy would inspect his room below she had made sure to have it as clean as the bastard would have expected. Most likely she had been afraid if Percy had tried to take him back he would have produced the marriage certificate and made certain to inform him of their marriage. She had not done it to be kind, or had she?

He might have imagined it but she had not seemed eager to let Percy rummage though his belongings. The sodding prick had made quite a mess of his own looking for things that weren't even there. What did Percy think? That he was going to hide knives and other weapons away so he could murder Hermione in her sleep?

For this reason precisely, as anyone might think to rifle through his things at any given time, he kept the certificate with him always. Folded neatly into a tight square it rested in a pocket just on the inside of his shirt. Hermione could not find it or if she was looking would never think to come across it there or have the courage to be so bold and search him personally.

That was also frustrating, this constant avoidance of the topic of their marriage. Just because he wasn't pouncing on her during the day did not mean she was in any way free to forget who she was and whom she belonged to. Hermione was defying him out of spite more than anything, but there was a small tinge of worry buried deep in Malfoy's mind that questioned whether or not she might find Percy's false appearances attractive. The bastard was plying her with compliments left and right and acting gallant in checking on her daily.

It almost made Malfoy wish that the younger Weasel hadn't taken that job with the Ministry or that Potter and his little girlfriend would return from wherever the hell they'd spirited off to. They were tolerable at least. Nice and comfortable too, for it seemed that Hermione and Ron were nothing more than friends and Potter had the youngest Weasley to himself. Yes, the sooner Percy was taken out of the picture the better.

Gathering his belongings and sorting them out once again he finally laid back on the cot for the night. Snorting to himself in the darkness he was cursing his weakness where Hermione was concerned. He had frightened her on those first days, overwhelming her he realized and so he had relented knowing she was innocent in so many ways still and not eager like most women. As far as he knew Krum, Weasley, and now the insufferable Percy were her only admirers. That was a pitiful bunch and none of them could properly teach her or engage her in anything concerning pleasurable love play.

So he had restrained himself and forgotten his vow to seduce her until she was ready. Until the Weasel's proposition earlier Malfoy was sure he was making steps forward. She was not as nervous around him any longer and though their discussions were of nothing in particular they were not heated arguments or rounds of insults most generally. Gods, but why did the bastard have to ruin all of his beautiful progress.

A night out was all it was, he told himself realizing in his current position he could say nothing and was forced to let Hermione have her way for now. If he thought there was a way of exposing their marriage he would do so readily, but until he had found a means to clear Hermione of anything treasonous he wouldn't risk it. Though he was almost proud of her for her devious means of getting him released in a roundabout way her actions could be considered disloyal. Longbottom could hang or rot somewhere for all Malfoy cared, as the narrow-minded git was wrong. Percy wouldn't hesitate to take Hermione into custody if for no reason other than to assuage his own pride when it was revealed that he never once stood any chance in pursuing her romantically.

Malfoy laid thinking for a while longer but decided against seeking his usual routine. He didn't trust himself tonight after all that had occurred today. Instead he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for sometime and rose to sneak back up to search through the books for his mother's diary. Unlocking the cellar door, smiling to himself at Hermione's ignorance in thinking she could contain him in any way, he went into the storeroom and began to rummage through boxes of books hoping he would find the diary soon. When he did Snape would return and he could learn more about his mother's well being and even the professor's as well.


	10. Flight in the Night

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Well, is having technical difficulties and though I wanted to be fair and keep posts corresponding with one another it's not fair to the people reading this story if they have to constantly wait for updates. I'm also going to start updating this story at my live journal eventually as well. Once I get the kinks worked out and figure the entire process out that is.

_I apologize for the lack of updates, but this story is now finished and I'm just going to update here every few days from now on. I'm hoping is up and running soon, but until then here's where I post._

_Thanks for sticking with this story and I hope you continue to enjoy it._

Chapter 10

Flight in the Night

At five minutes till seven on Saturday evening Percy Weasley stood at the front door of Hermione's shop. Wearing only an elegant tuxedo, as they would be among Muggles tonight and fashionable robes would look out of place, he looked aristocratic, but that was as far as Hermione could take her assessment of him. There was nothing intriguing or exciting about him at all, but she wasn't going with him tonight in hopes of anything romantic, so it did not really matter.

Adjusting her evening gown Hermione thought the red was much too striking of a color, but she had grown up wearing it enough and when she looked for clothing she had the tendency to simply choose that shade. It was very modest with short sleeves and a hem that came to her ankles, but beaded with a sheer overlay of material. She didn't feel too conspicuous draping the matching wrap over her shoulders and taking Percy's arm Hermione stepped out locking the door behind her.

She declined Percy's offer for dinner earlier that week, deciding the experience of opera was quite enough. There was nothing wrong with what she was doing, Hermione told herself repeatedly, before they reached The Royal Opera House. She wasn't married, well not in the sense that required she remain faithful and put all thoughts of pursuing other men behind her. To the world she was a widow and in a matter of weeks she would have the agreement dissolved legally.

"I must say you are looking exquisite tonight," Percy said with true admiration as they took their seats in a box to the left of the stage.

"Thank you Percy. You are rather dashing yourself," she admitted, but for some reason the compliment he had given her did not mean as much as it might have any other time.

As the evening commenced and the lights dimmed Hermione took a deep breath and suddenly knew she had made a mistake. She was using Percy really if she thought about it. Malfoy had infuriated her and to prove her independence she accepted Percy's invitation. Her behavior was getting more appalling by the day and she blamed Malfoy wholeheartedly. He always brought out the worst in her, in anyone really. First she had drawn Neville into her devious scheme and now Percy was haplessly sitting next to her as a result of simply trying to win a quarrel.

Somewhere along the way the opera began, the singing not really reaching Hermione's consciousness. She had always wanted to go to the opera, but it was not enjoyable tonight with all of her guilt engulfing her mercilessly. To make the matter entirely more complicated Percy took to holding her hand, stroking her skin gently with a finger. She had given him the wrong impression and she should have pulled her hand from his grasp, but Hermione was not versed in the delicate ways of rejection. As absurd as it sounded, a man had never truly escorted Hermione Granger for the evening, unless one considered a single encounter with Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball as such.

The longer Percy kept touching her the more nervous Hermione became. It was too late now to pull away, as it would surely be inappropriate at this point and Percy would be confused at her sudden refusal of his chaste advance. Sighing inwardly Hermione could picture in her mind Malfoy laughing at her inexperience, enjoying how miserable she was now. The truth of the matter was she had done this to herself and would have to endure the remainder of the night as calmly as possible.

There was a brief intermission and Hermione used the excuse to get away for a bit to the ladies room. Performing the mundane task of retouching her makeup she wondered what would happen if she just disappeared or begged Percy to take her home early. She was feeling sick thinking of how terrible her actions were, and how they were affecting others. Then Hermione shook her head and mumbled to herself, knowing she could not add to her remorse by blatantly lying to her date for the evening.

When she returned, thankfully Percy did not attempt to reach out to her, not that she would have made the effort worthwhile. Hermione kept her binoculars tightly in her grasp and paid avid attention to the opera finding it tragic and uncalled for that the lovers were parted in the end by death. Really she had to admit that her fellow Muggles were obsessed with the Romeo and Juliet premise.

They talked amicably on the way back to her shop about nothing of any substance. Hermione hoped that her unwillingness to engage in a conversation of depth and purpose would discourage Percy somewhat. She came to learn later before he led her to the door that he was not easily dissuaded.

Again Percy complimented her on her attire and very assuredly leaned forward intent on kissing her goodnight. That was something Hermione had forgotten about dates, the kiss at the end and she was not prepared. Before she could turn or offer a polite protest his lips were on hers, and it was an awkward moment that she could not extricate herself from without some difficulty.

What the etiquette was as far as accepting a kiss you did not want in the first place was not something Hermione was familiar with. She did not respond, and demurely smiled hoping to appear very shy so he would not think to try it again. For the time being her reaction had the desired affect, and with only a gentlemanly kiss on her hand before he departed, Percy smiled with self-assurance and left her for the night.

Rummaging through her small bag for her shop keys and wand, Hermione frowned at a rustling sound coming from behind her. Her eyes widened when she saw Ron running down the street glancing behind him as though he were being pursued. "Ron, what is the matter?"

"Prinny's family," he said between breaths halting in front of her and taking her hands. "They've got an order for George and Fred's shop to be searched and they've got the Ministry's approval to return with him to their home since there's no evidence of abuse."

"The Ministry wouldn't do that!" Hermione cried looking worriedly over Ron's shoulder to see if anyone might creep from the shadows. "Where is he now?"

"The Burrow, but he can't stay there. We have to try and get him to Romania tonight. Charlie owled me this morning letting me know he could meet us in Brasov. There's a small cave in the mountains near Bran Castle that Prinny can hide in for a time until things are settled here. There are several dragon nests nearby so I doubt the Ministry will be so quick to think to look there at first."

Looking down at her attire Hermione realized she was overly dressed for such a mission, but there was no help for it. If she went in and changed her clothing Malfoy would be about and probably try and stop her from helping the elf altogether. Also, he was most likely set on quarreling about her evening with Percy and Hermione didn't have the time to listen to another barrage of ultimatums and denials to end their duplicitous attachment to one another. "Ron, I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion, but if you think this will be our last chance."

"It's our only one now, come on. The Ministry sent their officials over to the Fred and George's a few minutes ago. If they find any evidence that the elf was there at all our time is up."

Shoving her wand back into her bag after shrinking it again Hermione glanced once at her own shop, and taking Ron's hand they Disapparated to The Burrow. Quickly they shuffled Prinny into a small bag and again Disapparated to Charlie's location in Brasov.

The city was alive with activity so it was easy to lose themselves in the crowd and Charlie had picked an out of the way café in which to meet. The waiters did look appraisingly at Hermione's attire but said nothing. Passersby also were a bit assessing but as this was one of the larger cities in the country they let it pass. She could have just as easily been coming from a restaurant or the theater.

Sharing a brief hug with his brother Ron immediately handed the bag containing the tiny elf to him and would have left then. Hermione watched with concern as Charlie started to walk away, then stopped him. "We'll go with you. I don't feel right just pawning this off on you. Ron?" she said his name in a question as though waiting for him to agree with her.

"Now Hermione I don't think this is wise. For your alibi you'll need to be back at the shop and I'll have to be at The Burrow. Besides Charlie knows how to avoid the dragons and this is gypsy land Mione'. They can spot a witch and wizard very easily. Their elders are particularly keen on discovering us it seems," Ron cautioned sharing a nod with his elder brother.

"I can't let Charlie be responsible for this. What if he's caught?" Hermione pressed glancing about to see if they were indeed being watched in any way. There was the possibility that the Du Marier family had sent someone to pursue or follow her. There was the box of chocolates but that had just been something to frighten her she was sure.

"No one will be following me where I'm thinking about going believe me," Charlie stated with conviction. "It's best if you both go now. The gypsies in Bran aren't easy to fool. Besides Hermione you're a bit overdressed and that will begin to look suspicious to anyone really.

"We're going with you," Hermione firmly replied walking up to Charlie's side. "I promised Prinny myself that I'd see to it he was safe."

Ron sighed heavily knowing there would be no arguing with her. "Charlie save your breath. When she's bent on having her own way there's no talking her out of it. Come on, but be quick about it and try not to attract too much attention."

The three made their way through the city finally disappearing down a dark alley and with Charlie's help Apparating near Bran Castle. The fortress was hideously large and dark. It was after all Dracula's castle or so it was said. Vlad the Impaler he was called, but those in the Wizarding World knew better, that he was indeed of the undead.

"Did you have to Apparate right here?" Ron whispered fiercely at his brother who only chuckled. "Honestly, Charlie you've got a fondness for the morbid."

"Oh really Ron it's not likely there's a vampire on the place. They're no different than us when it comes to avoiding dragons and such," Hermione admonished dusting herself off and trying to get her mind off of the howls in the distance and the heavy mist that surrounded them. Dragon's breathe really, and it meant that they were very near.

"Pick your steps carefully. Too much noise and the dragons will sense us," Charlie warned harshly in a tight whisper.

Silently for many long minutes they trekked over rocky terrain, the night deepening and the howls of the creatures below in the village's surrounding forest echoing up to them. It reminded Hermione of the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts for a brief time when vampire bats began to screech and fly overhead, disappearing into nearby caves, as the mist thickened. The ghostly wails coming from all around them were probably local gypsies trying to frighten tourists into believing the tales of the castle at the top of the mountain.

Reaching the cave Charlie intended for the tiny elf they halted, while he listened for the rustle or presence of any creature meaning them harm. Motioning them with his hand they kept moving forward, and then just inside Charlie sat the bag down and allowed the elf to step out. Bouncing happily Prinny knew well enough to keep quiet, but grabbed Hermione's hand squeezing and shaking it gratefully.

Before Charlie took the elf farther into the cave Hermione mouthed a thank you and received a smile and nod in return. Taking Ron's hand they made their decent hoping to find the exact spot they had Apparated to originally. Dragons, vampires, and dreaded werewolves sensed magic readily. Were they to Disapparate too closely to Charlie and the elf their presence would be discovered and one did not wish to tangle with any of those creatures what so ever.

The mist kept growing thicker and the mountain terrain much steeper on the downhill climb. There was no way to for Ron and Hermione to set their wands aglow to help their sight. That would draw more attention. Eventually after wandering about they concluded they were possibly lost, but not of their own means.

Something was tracking them and confusing them. More than likely a vampire had caught their scent and was leading them around in circles, creating the mist's heavy appearance and planting each misstep they took in their minds. "We should stop. Something isn't right," Hermione whispered in Ron's ear, halting her friend with a slight squeeze of his hand.

"It's a vampire I know it. They've been following us since the cave," Ron whispered back. "Bugger it we need to Disapparate now. Charlie's capable of hiding himself if our magic's noticed."

Gripping one another's hands they simultaneously transported themselves back to the alley in Brasov. The moment they materialized they knew their mistake. They were nowhere near Brasov, but in the village of Bran. On the outskirts there was a fire burning straight ahead. It was a camp of gypsies and they had noticed them immediately, eyes wide and mouths turned up in a leer.

"Quick, Disapparate to London," Ron ordered still holding Hermione's hands.

Trying to utter the spell Hermione screamed when the gypsies seemed to pour out of the trees from everywhere. Covered caravan flaps were thrown open and numerous weapons were drawn. "Faeries, witches, demon spawns!" they cried in the Romany tongue.

Gypsies were notoriously hypocritical as they also possessed certain magical charms and were once known to have held an alliance with the Fae and Queen Mab herself during ancient times. Yet, they were desperately possessive of their own secrets and saw anyone of the Wizarding World as a threat. Though stealing magic, goods, and anything in the Muggle World was commonplace to them, they were fiercely protective of their own knowledge and belongings.

"Run!" Hermione shouted instead and she and Ron broke into a sprint, narrowly escaping the grasp of two large gypsy men intent on cornering them. Blindly they ran into the forest tripping and stumbling many times. The branches and bushes around them cut into Hermione's exposed skin, as she was not as protected as Ron wearing her evening gown. Her slippers were utterly destroyed when she staggered over a log and broke the pointed heel. Leaving the shoes behind Hermione increased her pace keeping an even length of Ron's longer strides.

Behind them the angry gypsies kept at their heels. It was not everyday they could catch a witch and wizard in their midst and they could confiscate their wands making escape nearly impossible. No, Hermione did not relish the thought of being at the mercy of the two large men at the front of the mob chasing them through the night.

Lights were coming into view and they were nearing the town of Bran. Hopefully the mildly busy streets would deter the pursuit of their attackers. When they finally stepped into civilization again the angry shouts did not falter. Seeing a hotel down a well-lit street Ron and Hermione kept running, knowing a horde of angry gypsies was nothing local residents took seriously. This was an everyday affair and they were respected by most. It was their country after and land of their ancestors.

Barely making it inside the establishment the two stopped to catch their breath before continuing to the back asking politely for a lavatory. Getting a curt reply and wave of a hand they darted into the men's area, and quickly gathering their composure Disapparated to safety.

Appearing outside the alley behind Hermione's shop they each exhaled a sigh of relief. "See why I didn't particularly want to go hiking a mountain," Ron tried to smile now that the crisis was averted.

"Oh, admit it. It was like old times," Hermione grinned up at him impishly. She was masking her own fear however at how close they had come to being discovered. Also, there was the tiny part of not truly making certain no one had seen them disappear in the lavatory. However there was no help for it, and they had been very careful elsewhere.

"No more close calls like that do you hear," he frowned at her like an older brother who was protecting a child. "This elvish business is getting out of hand really."

Rolling her eyes she patted his shoulder. "Hurry and get back to The Burrow so no one thinks anything out of the ordinary."

"Good night Mione'. Malfoy won't be up and about will he?" Ron glanced at the door behind her with a curious and concerned gaze.

"No, he's probably been asleep for hours. It's the middle of the night you know. Thank Merlin, I don't have to open in the morning," she whispered taking her wand lifting the charm and unlocking the door along with her key. Since the incident with the chocolates she had been giving extra care to securing the back entrance.

"I won't see you for a few days to keep down suspicion. If the Ministry questions you say you turned Prinny away when you heard his story. Say something, anything just don't make them wonder enough to probe any further," Ron warned before smiling at her reassuringly then faded from view.

Closing the door behind her Hermione secured the lock again with a less than simple spell and secured it. Heaving another sigh, the toll the night had taken finally sunk in and Hermione's feet and face along with her arms were burning. She was cut deeply on her left heel from either rocks or twigs in the forest she was not sure. Bending down she muttered a healing incantation to take care of the immediate area then decided to go upstairs and take a long bath. Afterward she would finish seeing to her other minor afflictions.

Out of curiosity Hermione almost checked the cellar in case Malfoy had not gone below and was sneaking about somewhere, ready to engage in another battle of words. Then she thought better of it. She had not ventured downstairs with the possibility of him being there as well since their last encounter. Hermione's nerves were already on edge and she would have to deal with him in the morning most likely asking questions and poking fun at her evening with Percy. Quietly she charmed the cellar door as always and started slowly upstairs.

A small clock in her apartment chimed three in the morning and Malfoy only barely heard the tolling. All feelings of gentleness or remote kindness had long ago disappeared. He was an even bigger fool than he'd given Longbottom credit for always being in the past. Sweet, innocent, and very married Hermione had not returned home and was undoubtedly spending the night in the arms of one Percy Weasley.

Months of thinking of her in the outside world helping others, smiling at friends, and secretly hoping she had not forgotten about him completely, were for nothing. Hermione was like everyone else, a liar, and like every woman she paraded about thoughtlessly, appearing demure and virginal. Gods, he was blind to not see her true character sooner.

Unbidden images of Percy kissing her, caressing her where her own husband could not invaded Draco's mind relentlessly. Clenching his fists tightly again he wanted to rip the man's throat out and curse his broken body into a thousand unrecognizable pieces. Then he would deal with Hermione.

All of her blushing and downcast gazes were lies. Draco saw that now, and marveled how she had managed to so easily ensnare him in her deceit. He wondered how many there had been since the night they were married. Had Hermione already finished with Ron and thought to move to his brother where the power was, the future Minister of Magic possibly? How quaint really, and she probably would explain that her seduction of Percy was so ensure the safety of her fucking elves.

Again visions of Hermione, head thrown back, lips parted in a wordless gasp of pleasure assailed Draco while she lay naked and writhing under another man. No, this time the man was him, and she was suddenly crying begging for forgiveness, but she was asking in vain. There was no forgiving betrayal such as this. She may not have initially meant to honor her vows, but just the same when the situation changed she was bound to be faithful. It was an unspoken law. Hermione was his wife and that meant above all else she respected his position in her life and knew without question she belonged to him.

Angrily Draco sent a stack of books on a nearby table flying along with a few figurines that crashed to the floor shattering. Loyal, strong, and loving Hermione was able to offer herself to everyone in some capacity except him. Draco hated her for it more than he had once childishly hated her for being born to a Muggle family.

It ended tonight Malfoy decided, the secrets. He was going to take the marriage certificate to The Ministry in the morning. If Hermione was charged with treason that was her own affair. Eventually he would secure her release from prison, if it came to that, and then she would be indebted to him and at his mercy. Hermione would never be able to slip away again he would make sure of it.

Draco heard the back door closing below and narrowed his eyes trying to discern if she was alone or the bastard was with her. There was only the sound of her light footsteps coming up the stairs moments later, and he realized that she had the good grace to come home alone and leave the sodding prick at the door, or back at his own flat. Speaking of them together only inflamed Draco's temper further and slipping to the wall at the side of Hermione's apartment door he waited for her to enter.

The moment she slowly walked inside Hermione paused almost making him think she sensed him. Then she shook her head and absently shut the door, not looking behind her. She cried out when her bare foot fell on a broken piece of porcelain. Bending down she pulled the stray portion of a broken cat figurine from the pad of her foot frowning before her eyes widened.

There were books and glass everywhere, and her first thought was the Du Marier family had searched her apartment for Prinny. Glancing about frantically she was actually happy to see Malfoy lounging against the wall behind her. "Malfoy what happened? Did someone break in?"

Draco did not answer her, just pushed himself from the wall and began advancing on her. His eyes were flecks of ice and fire and every muscle was tensed in his body. Something was not right and Hermione glanced down to see that he had divested himself of his manacles. She often did not care if he went about without them, but suddenly she wished he was not as powerful and could not rid himself of them so readily. "Malfoy, what's wrong? You should be downstairs in bed."

"Was the opera everything you thought it would be? Was Percy?" he asked silkily his shoes crunching the remnants of the broken shards beneath his feet.

Backing away and keeping her eyes on him Hermione was afraid. The gypsy camp looked preferable at the moment. She foolishly tried to put on an aloof persona. "Malfoy I don't know what you mean. What happened tonight is none of your business."

Something came to life, horrific and savage in Draco, then and she did not even have time to pull her wand from her bag again to defend herself. He tossed the handbag aside after wrenching it painfully from her grasp and with an inhuman growl ripped the front of her bodice rending the garment beyond repair. Twisting from him for a moment Hermione screamed and managed to stumble toward the door behind him. However, Malfoy was more determined and caught her waist effortlessly spinning her around to face him.

Malevolently he raked her with a cold vengeful gaze. "None of my business if my wife is fucking the Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic? Perhaps you'd like to think that particular statement over again," he snarled shaking her once and tightening his hold on her waist.

Hermione stared back at him in confusion and abject fear. "Percy has nothing to do with this," she stammered, not knowing how this would end and thinking it would not be in her favor.

"Everything," he hissed jerking at the clasps on the back of her dress while she struggled to keep what was left of her clothing around her body. "He has everything to do with it. Was he worth it, was he good in bed or have you had better?"

"I didn't sleep with Percy. Gods, Malfoy not that it would matter to you anyways," she cried realizing that her struggles only caused her more pain. Stilling her more unsettled thoughts Hermione knew she needed to decide a plan of action and quickly she whispered the command to bring her wand forth. _"Accio wand."_

Malfoy caught her wand instead and muttered another spell preventing her from obtaining it. _"Tego texi tectum."_ Immediately the wand disappeared from view, placed on another plane of existence, and he shook his head at her angrily. "We won't be needing that tonight I don't believe."

Hermione thrashed about wildly tears coming to her eyes and she knew she was fighting a losing battle. "Let me go! Percy will make things worse for you if you do this," she warned.

"I don't want to hear his name!" Malfoy roared threading his fingers through her hair and throwing her head back. "Not once more do you understand. For Gods sakes I thought you had more taste. He must have been boring, very proper and I doubt the experience was even memorable."

"I didn't sleep with Percy!" she shouted once more even more bewildered that it seemed to be the cause of his anger his thinking that she had.

"Not even those dreary little Muggles of yours can screech and moan for well over seven hours about tragic romance and other nonsense. Don't lie to me!"

"I wasn't with Percy I was with Ron after the opera," Hermione explained and instantly recognized her mistake in admitting that fact.

"Both in one night?" Draco drawled with a leer and raised a brow, his fury coming to the surface completely. "How, generous and devious of you."

"Stop saying things like that! I was with Ron in Romania to hide an elf. The Ministry was searching for him tonight and his family was given permission to take him back if he was found. I had to get him out of the city!" An even darker dread settled around Hermione then as she revealed what had transpired. This was damning evidence against her that Malfoy would readily use to destroy her for certain now. She had implicated Ron as well in her desperation to get Malfoy to see reason.

A modicum of sanity took root in Draco's mind and he froze for a moment. Cruelly he assessed Hermione's appearance, taking in her torn clothing and exposed undergarments. She was trembling again, dark eyes pleading with him for understanding. He didn't care if she hated him for it later, but focused on her eyes delving into the depths of her mind needing to know the truth for himself.

Before Hermione could halt his intent, fleeting moments of the night came into focus. Percy making her uncomfortable and her realization she had not wished to accept his invitation to begin with. Ron and that other brother of his, there were so many of the redheaded buggers, and then a spirited chase through the woods. "Gypsies!" Draco murmured his anger taking a different turn.

His hold on her had lessened and Hermione took a few tentative steps back. "I told you never to do that," she reminded him but hoped that the few bits of information he had seen in her thoughts would assuage his wrath.

"Fucking gypsies and Gods know what else for an elf?" he asked incredulously. "Does Weasley know about the poisoned chocolates and notes, or does he think this deadly hobby of yours is worth it?"

"We weren't caught. Ron and I are too clever for that," Hermione defended forgetting at that second to hold her garment in place and hide her body from view. "It's nothing to you. I know you hate elves as much as you hate Muggles. What I do is my own business."

"It matters very much if one of your insane schemes nearly gets you abducted or killed. Do you know the things the gypsy men could have done to you? Do you?" Relief was mingling with protective rage. She hadn't gone to Percy, hadn't given herself to him, but she had willingly risked her life for another creature that meant nothing in the long run. This elvish society had gone too far.

"The same thing you would have done just moments ago," she spat back some of her courage returning.

Draco's face grew pale at her blunt response and the fire that fueled his anger died. Thinking silently to himself he wondered if she were right, if he was as capable as his father of taking what someone was not willingly to give. Would he have been able to stop himself before he'd hurt her or would he have justified his actions as her punishment for a betrayal?

Staring back at Hermione watching her chest rise and fall with her erratic breathing and the trembling of her hands and legs Draco mentally shook himself. He couldn't have ultimately gone so far as to humiliate her completely. "No, I would never have done that. I was angry, yes, but I couldn't," he whispered imploring her to believe him, trying to convince himself as well.

His father had done his job well, Draco mused with disgust. Take, destroy, ruin, humble and in the end all of it will be justified. Nothing justified the lost and frightened look that shone from Hermione's dark eyes or the paleness of her skin. More firmly Draco resolved himself to realizing that he wasn't able to commit such a heinous act. It was a daunting insight that came next but one he oddly accepted without question. Blinking twice he gazed back at her again drawing in a deep breath. "Are you hurt?"

"What?" she asked in disbelief. "Malfoy get out!" she said impatiently pulling the remnants of her dress about her.

"Are you hurt?" he pursued the question again ignoring Hermione and walking toward her again. As he suspected she flinched when he reached for her, but he didn't let it deter him.

"I'm fine go downstairs. I'll heal myself if you'll kindly return my wand from wherever you dispersed it to," she said heatedly.

He wasn't paying her any heed but did call the wand from its suspension on another plane. _"Aperio."_

Curiously she waited to see what he had in mind to do and watched him skeptically when it appeared he was going to examine her. "I can take care of myself. I told you to leave."

Still not speaking Draco was pleased to see that she wasn't injured except for a few scrapes and bruises. Running half crazed through a forest could inflict such wounds. There was a simple spell for this and now he wished he'd paid better attention in school as far as healing was concerned. Potions and Arithmancy had always been so much more interesting however. Draco wondered how much he could have improved in the subjects if he had been allowed to return for seventh year.

"_Restituo ut quod est lacer quod frendo," _Hermione muttered with annoyance snatching the wand out of his hand. Instantly her skin returned to a pink and flawless luster with only thin red lines and splotches left in place of the previous gashes and contusions.

"How you remember spells like that without any effort is beyond me," he said with actual amazement. "Did you do you do anything else in school but read and fight for Dumbledore?"

"Get out. I most certainly don't want to talk about the past with you." Hermione wasn't worried he would harm her now, but his fury earlier had suggested otherwise. At the moment she just wanted Draco out of her sight and safely locked below.

"You're right in that respect, the past isn't a topic we should dwell on. It's the future we should be interested in."

"Wondering what I'll tell Percy in the morning when he stops in?" she baited, also testing to see if his temper would ignite again.

"Nothing," he stated bluntly. "You won't tell him anything about this elf you helped tonight or where you were. Believe Longbottom if you want, but I'm convinced Weasley would gladly take you in to The Ministry if for no other reason than bettering his reputation. I don't trust him and neither should you."

Hermione didn't correct him, as she had been speaking of his rash behavior earlier, but his words were sobering. Neville was a bit naïve to believe that Percy would let her get away with anything more than another citizen. Would Percy be at the shop early in the morning again? Would he be asking questions since they did not find Prinny at Fred and George's? "What about you? What are you going to tell Percy?"

"Not a sodding thing," Draco said appearing appalled that she would think otherwise. "I don't agree whatsoever with this society of yours but I'm not going to let Weasley or those families to harm you because of it. He'd be better off if he didn't delve too much into where this elf you shuffled out of the city ended up. I assume his little brother Ronald can keep his mouth tightly shut?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered taken aback that he was obviously concerned that she should be discovered and turned over to the Ministry. "Malfoy why aren't you thinking about using this information to your advantage? You could go to the Minister himself tomorrow and Ron and I both would be implicated. Even his brother Charlie would have to face charges."

"I've seen prison," he told her softly. "I don't think you would make it very long in there. Besides, it wouldn't look proper for a wife of a Malfoy to have blot like that on their reputation."

They were back to that again, but at least Draco didn't outwardly seem to want to bring her before the courts. Not wholly able to forget his outburst, Hermione pushed aside the tiny feelings of relief and gratitude for his silence. "Go to bed," she said wearily waving him away with her hand and going toward her door.

"What family does the elf belong to again?" Draco had a very real feeling that the elf's owners would be more than irritated that he had not been found. He had only heard Hermione and Ron mention their name once weeks ago and he had not heard it plainly at the time. Hermione might well receive an unexpected visit from them and they would not be civil guests he was sure.

"Du Marier," she mumbled absently opening the apartment door. "Good night," she reiterated not raising her gaze from the floor.

Hiding his shock Malfoy did not know whether to warn Hermione of their ruthlessness, or yell at her for taking on such a dark and merciless clan to begin with. "They'll come looking for you. They won't let this rest."

"I'll worry about that tomorrow." All Hermione wanted was to forget tonight and curl up in her bed. The bath wasn't as appealing even and she was beyond exhausted.

Contemplating her for a time he finally strode forward. "Remember to say nothing to Weasley. You can't trust him."

"And I can trust you," she said with distinct sarcasm.

Hermione id meet his gaze after finding his next remark strangely sincere. Honesty was not something she was accustomed to seeing in Draco's eyes and it was more unsettling than any violent flare of his temper. Unmoving she watched him warily when he reached out tentatively to brush his fingers across her cheek. "Yes, you can," he said before dropping his hand away and turning to leave.

Locking the door behind him she didn't dare try and go below to unlock the cellar for him or see that he was actually going below. Muttering the cleaning spell and repairing her broken knick-knacks Hermione removed her ruined dress, repairing I quickly and stuffing it into the back of her closet. She then slipped into a soft and comfortable nightgown that came just below her knees. Pulling the covers back she buried her face in her pillow and cried with relief. Malfoy had not harmed her, and she had managed to safely get Prinny out of London. It was all emotionally draining and she fell asleep easily.

Draco soundlessly crept back through the apartment finding Hermione's wand sitting on the table before a sofa. She should have taken it to bed with her, but it would serve him well to place a more secure charm on her apartment door. Not that it would keep a more determined witch or wizard out, but it would bide him time if he had to get her to safety.

Seeing that the windows were locked as well Draco stepped lightly into her bedroom. She was crying in her sleep and instead of simply pulling a chair near her bed to keep watch for the night he impulsively slipped in beside her. Intending to keep his distance Draco held very still, watching the window across the room, waiting for someone to attempt to enter.

Despite the scent of evergreen, dirt, and a hint of smoke in her hair there was the undeniable smell of gardenias. Fitful in her sleep Hermione turned over, unconsciously edging closer until she was pressing against him, her face barely a breath away from his own. Tears were still wet on her cheeks and Draco nearly tried to brush them away, but thought better of it.

It was good for him to see them. It reminded him of how painful words could be and accusations. If he were going to make any attempt at all to amicably continue their marriage he would have to learn and remember that Hermione was a rarity, someone who was honest to a fault and when she kept a secret it nearly destroyed her inside. Just as her secret in marrying him and hiding her elves was slowly tearing her apart.

Not thinking twice Draco shamelessly explored her mind finding her deeply asleep and not likely to awaken easily if he attempted what he wished to do. Selfishly he couldn't resist, having been denied human contact, contact with her in particular, and drew her into his arms laying his cheek on her forehead. Whatever small amount of trust Hermione held in him would be lost when she woke and found him near, but then again more than likely there had been none left after his violent display.

He would have to start over in the morning Draco knew, but first he was going to have to figure out a way to put his pride aside and confront the Weasley's soon. They were Purebloods and knew how well connected the Du Mariers were. That family was also very respected among the same circles as the Crabbes, Goyles, Parkinsons, and Notts. He didn't think he would have the fortitude to ask Potter for help as of yet. If the Du Mariers were forced to pay any reparations when the elf's trial came about though, even Potter might not be enough to protect Hermione if they truly wanted to see her harmed.

_Tego texi tectum- To conceal_

_Aperio- To appear_

_Restituo ut quod est lacer quod frendo- Repair that which is torn and bruised_


	11. The Ministry's Interference

_**Author's Note:**_ _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_Glad you all are still reading. Like I said story is completed so this isn't a WIP that won't be finished. Thanks again for the reviews and support!_

Chapter 11

The Ministry's Interference

Her muscles were slightly sore from the climbing and running the night before. Stretching, Hermione discovered she couldn't move as freely as she should be able to. Frowning she slowly blinked a few times before finding herself staring into a pair of blue and silver eyes.

It was of course another one of her dreams, and Hermione did not feel threatened. Instead like in all of her nightly illusions she smiled hoping he wouldn't fade from view as readily as he always seemed to. He looked back at her in bemusement, but smiled in turn lightly brushing stray curls from her forehead. Still believing she was asleep Hermione moved closer, wondering why he seemed so surprised and had stiffened against her.

Whatever confusion he was feeling must have disappeared she decided with relief when he relaxed a second later. As Hermione reached out to wrap her arms up around his neck she thought she heard him sigh before softly pressing his lips to hers. This wasn't his normal reaction either. He was never rough or brutal in her dreams, but he had never been this gentle or loving either.

It didn't matter to Hermione at the moment, as it was a different and heady experience to be kissed so tenderly. Something about it was almost as arousing as when in her musings of repose she let him shamelessly roam over her body with his hands and mouth. Hermione knew she was being too imaginative really, ever thinking that Malfoy was able to express warm emotions. Nevertheless, she was going to enjoy the dream as long as it lasted, knowing the Malfoy of her waking hours wasn't capable of caring for a filthy Muggle Born witch.

As always when Malfoy would turn to cover her body with his own she opened herself to him. In slow degrees he deepened the kiss running his tongue over her bottom lip in silent plea for permission rather than simply invading and taking, as was his typical way. Hermione eagerly opened her mouth remembering how he could devastate her with the mere teasing of his tongue against her own.

Hands that before would rip her clothing open to reveal her body were so careful and gentle now, gliding slowly up under her nightgown. Somewhere in the back of her mind Hermione was starting to realize that if Malfoy were to touch her this way in the light of day, when he was not a figment of her imagination, she would succumb easily. Now, assured he was only a creation in her mind she didn't worry about her conclusion only about taking pleasure in her dream state for as long as her subconscious would let her.

She helped him when he became a bit impatient to lift the gown over her head raising her arms herself and tugging the garment free. Clutching Malfoy closer Hermione shivered at the feel of scorching lips that were slipping over the skin of her neck, across her collarbone and then to her breast. Sharp sparks of pleasure echoed through her body and she grew bolder working to unfasten the buttons of his shirt.

Usually in her dreams Malfoy would grab her hands and still their actions, except this time he shrugged his shoulders making it easier for Hermione to remove it. Tossing the shirt aside she lightly raked her nails down his back, not knowing what ways to touch a man but simply needing to feel his skin beneath her fingers. .

This dream was different from the others it seemed and Hermione wondered if this time were she to call his name if it would end the blissful fantasy. Just before he would have pressed his lips to hers once more she whispered the name that was always so foreign, forbidden really unless he was haunting her sleep, "Draco."

Distress welled up in her when he went completely still. He would disappear again and leave her as always. Hermione's disappointment was short lived however when instead Malfoy cupped the side of her cheek and laid his forehead against hers taking a deep breath. "You'll hate me later for this probably."

He didn't give Hermione a chance to ask him about his strange remark, hungrily taking possession of her lips. This kiss was what she recognized, raw and unyielding, an indication that he meant to conquer and claim her. Willingly Hermione responded moaning deep in her throat at the sensations swirling low in her belly.

There wasn't any need she wanted to tell him to try and persuade her. This time her dream would be complete and Hermione couldn't stand the waiting much longer. The emptiness that overwhelmed her only caused her to ache more. The fleeting memories she had of the time with Malfoy in the carriage carried over now and she remembered what it was like to be filled so completely, joined to one person so intimately. Shameless, she craved it, knowing that in dreams anything was possible, and there was nothing in the least to feel embarrassed about.

Abruptly Malfoy tore his mouth from hers and muttered a curse under his breath. He rolled to his feet and she reached out afraid that suddenly her dream was ending and morning was near. Rising on her elbows Hermione was relieved again to see he was only trying to rid himself of his last article of clothing. Frantically he went about undoing his pants nearly accomplishing it when a loud and persistent banging filtered from downstairs.

His head turned sharply and when the sound came again Malfoy dropped his arms to the side in defeat. Then he ran his hands through his hair shaking she figured from rage. "Gods, damn that fucking Ministry prick. I swear those Weasleys' have the most inopportune timing of anyone I've ever met!"

Hermione's eyes widened then. She was coming to her senses and the haze surrounding her was lifting. Blinking she saw Malfoy standing at the side of her bed, blond hair disheveled and hanging in his face, muttering curses about Percy and Ron, and simultaneously buttoning his pants back before retrieving his shirt from the floor. Fearfully Hermione looked down at herself as she always did when she woke from one of her passionate dreams almost instantly knowing she would not find everything as orderly as normal.

She was utterly exposed without a stitch of clothing, having lost her underwear somewhere in the encounter. Shame and horror welled up in Hermione at how wanton and unseemly she must appear. She raised her eyes to Malfoy finding him staring back at her with an oddly tender expression. There was still no masking the blatant desire that flashed in his eyes, but that she could have understood. If the last moments had not been a dream, why had he been so caring and affectionate?

"Get dressed and I'll go downstairs and let him in. Act like you immediately went to bed after the opera, and don't fidget like you do when you lie. Look him straight in the eye and think of something else, anything to keep him from seeing how uneasy his questions are making you, " Malfoy instructed her in between tossing her the discarded pair of underwear and her nightgown. "And for Gods sakes don't come down in that nightgown and a robe. Get dressed first"

Clutching the garments to her chest Hermione watched him leave hurriedly putting on his shirt as he went. Until she heard the apartment door slam she didn't move. Then she bounded off the bed and pushed all thoughts of her encounter with her husband to the side, for the time being. If it was Percy downstairs he was either coming to expound on the lovely time they had the evening before, or to question her about Prinny's disappearance.

Dressing quickly Hermione splashed some water on her face. Knowing she didn't have much time she performed a cleansing spell to freshen herself and then applied a thin coat of makeup to mask her dark circles under her eyes and flushed cheeks. Gazing back at her image in the mirror Hermione kept convincing herself that the darkness of her eyes and the trembling of her skin wasn't because of what she mistakenly thought of as a dream. Percy was probably there to question her and he was very shrewd and observant. If she lied he would know in an instant.

There were several voices coming from below and Hermione frowned while going down the stairs. Had Percy brought other Aurors from the Ministry along with him? Stepping out from behind the curtain she masked her apprehension and surprise immediately when Percy, Neville, and three members from the Du Marier family glanced up sharply as she entered the room.

Suddenly Hermione's gaze flew to Malfoy as though he could offer some explanation, a solution, or something. He was standing out of the way as Percy always liked him to, but he was watching her intently his face unreadable. She also wanted to make sure he'd remembered to put his lead wristbands back on. If Percy knew he went around without them at times he wouldn't hesitate to ship him back to Azkaban. Seeing the uncomfortable bracelets in place she groaned inwardly realizing she was actually worrying about his well being. That wasn't the response she should be having. She should've had hoped Percy caught him unawares and had an excuse to take him away.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Percy began sincerely stepping forward, his robes sweeping about him. "There was some trouble last night and I'm afraid I have to…"

"Quit humbling yourself to her you fool," the elder Du Marier snapped pushing past Percy and advancing on Hermione. "This filthy Mudblood bitch has caused us more than enough trouble and I don't intend to stand here and watch you act as though this isn't what she deserves."

It wasn't the man's fury that caught her attention, Hermione was used to such name-calling and insults from the older pureblooded families. It was that Percy only nodded and continued, not offering her any defense. The man who had acted so gallantly the night before, had daily complimented her and praised her work with the elves, and her new spells, stood by and said nothing.

"Hermione, I'm afraid your name is naturally connected to the majority of the elves that are disappearing and bringing their cases to court. You are the prime suspect in the case of one elf named Prinny. Unfortunately this means I will be searching your shop and Neville will be assisting me," Percy finished, throwing her an apologetic gaze, but not daring to support her in any way. The Du Mariers were a powerful family and she, a Muggle-Born, no Mudblooded witch, was nothing to them or the Ministry at the moment.

"Malfoy you'll be assisting us," Percy said, changing his tone from one of placating to terseness and domination.

Hermione turned to look at Malfoy again tears forming in her eyes. For some reason she was wondering if he would jump at the chance to help in destroying the order of her business, or maybe he wouldn't want to hurt her so much. He was clenching his fists and glaring at Percy and the elder Du Marier who had stepped forward.

"No, Mr. Weasley I don't think I will be," Malfoy serenely answered. He straightened and laid his palms flat on the table in front of him. As Hermione watched it appeared he was trying to calm himself down.

Percy stared back at Malfoy wide eyed for a brief second before recovering and offering him a decently infuriated frown. "Malfoy, you've been making progress lately and Miss Granger's situation is regrettable, but you will do as I say. Would you like me to report to the Minister himself that you refused a direct order?"

Still keeping Malfoy in her line of vision Hermione was stunned when his usually cool and demure demeanor toward Percy changed drastically. His fists clenched again and he moved to round the table headed for Percy. "Draco, it's okay," Hermione said quickly wiping two stray tears with the back of her hand and throwing her shoulders back. "Percy needs the help and I don't have anything to hide. Search away Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom."

Malfoy didn't take his eyes off of Percy but slowly walked forward waiting for Percy to proceed. The Du Mariers stood triumphantly in a line watching with devious satisfaction. Nodding toward the wall with robes and other odds and ends hanging in a row, Percy began his search.

"Malfoy take the storeroom. Neville go with him and make certain he doesn't try to hide anything if there is something to be found."

Neville gave Hermione a fleeting glance as he passed by slipping in the back of the shop. Malfoy followed slowly, his jaw clenched, boring a hole in Neville's back with his blistering gaze. He looked out of the corner of his eyes at Hermione while he trailed after Neville. She silently shook her head and then turned to watch Percy.

The process was agonizing as Percy mercilessly tore the robes from their hangers sometimes rending the material. It could be repaired, but it was the principle of it all. Next, he overturned boxes of wands, books, and gadgets sending the merchandise crashing to the floor. Many more things broke and Hermione flinched when a particularly beautiful painting, which she had merely used as decoration, was ripped open from the back.

For more than thirty minutes Percy tore through the front of the shop. There wasn't much noise coming from the storeroom, and when Percy was finished with his search he noticed this as well. He purposefully strode forward and disappeared behind the curtain. The next second loud thuds and bangs could be heard. They were her books still in boxes probably being dumped to the floor.

Left alone with the hawk like Du Mariers Hermione stared back at them as though she were very bored. The elder Du Marier was probably around sixty years old, and the woman at his side who she recognized as his wife from photos in the Daily Prophet could be guessed to be in her mid fifties. They looked much older, with their wrinkles around their mouths and eyes from sneering and crinkling their faces in disgust. There was another man with them, maybe their son. He was close to thirty probably and as miserable looking as they seemed to be.

"Is there something particularly interesting Mudblood or are you trying to enjoy the sight of actual wealth and class," the younger Du Marier jeered, raising an appraising eyebrow.

"No, nothing interesting at all, very ordinary really. I was just wondering why your father doesn't try to keep his arm covered better. You may have convinced the Ministry that I might be guilty of illegally taking your house elf, but I don't think they'll keep catering to someone who bears the old mark of Voldemort," she boldly and peacefully answered.

The elder Du Marier's face changed to a vivid shade of purple, and his wife's eyes narrowed like a predatory cat's. "Such insolence from a witch whose name and heritage mean nothing to this world. Your days of standing at the side of that preening Potter are over. His fame will fade in time, and any mention of your role in helping him will soon be blotted from the history books. You're nothing but a Mudblooded blemish in our society."

"I'm afraid during the last check the Ministry made as to the population of witches and wizards, Pureblooded families were on the decline," Hermione replied, for some reason feeling the need to goad the horrible trio further. They would as soon send the Killing Curse in her direction as suffer her presence, but even they had to be cautious with Percy and Neville about. The Ministry was on their side right now, and as long as they behaved civilly they expected it to stay that way.

"Those documents could have been mistaken, but if it is true then all the more reason for we pure families to band together and eradicate your kind," it was the female Du Marier who spoke now with a hissing voice. She truly reminded Hermione of a bad-tempered cat now.

"My kind? You mean hard working, law abiding, charitable? Changes are coming and I'm not the only reason for them," Hermione said, her own tone becoming harsh.

There was another crash from the back in the storeroom and this time Hermione knew things that were glass had shattered to the floor. Sighing she cast a glance behind her, miserably thinking of all the work that she would have to do to clean up after Percy was gone. It wouldn't take long if she used magic, but then she would have to reorganize everything as well.

"The Ministry won't always be around to help you filthy little creature," the eldest Du Marier spat wrathfully at Hermione causing her turn to him again.

"Is that a threat Mr. Du Marier? Would you like to repeat that in front of Mr. Weasley or Mr. Longbottom?"

"We're not the only ones watching. Remember that," the son of the vengeful Du Marier's sneered, curling his lips in an unattractive snarl.

Before Hermione could reply to the obvious threat Percy reappeared with Neville and Malfoy trailing behind. Neville was angry, angrier than Hermione had ever seen him, and Malfoy had once again placed a mask of aloof indifference over his face. Pausing before Hermione Percy took her hands in his, which Hermione swiftly withdrew, causing him to frown at her for a moment. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. We didn't find anything as I suspected. Just like at my brothers' shop. Mr. and Mrs. Du Marier there hasn't been a place left untouched. I personally went above stairs to her apartment and searched it as well. I'm sorry but I'm afraid your elf is nowhere to be found."

Hermione blanched at Percy's words. He'd searched her personal belongings? It was too great an invasion to comprehend. "Then I take it you'll be leaving. Malfoy and I have a rather large job on our hands now. I'll have to have the shop ready to open in the morning and…"  
"Actually there's been an injunction placed on your shop," Percy stated matter-of-factly. "You won't be opening again to prevent further incidents such as this elf's disappearance until he can be found. I'm sorry."

"You mean you're keeping me from earning my living? From running my own business without any evidence?" This was going to the extreme. Who were the Du Mariers that they held such absolute power over the Ministry?

"I said I was sorry, but you have been suspicious with all this talk about S.P.E.W. is it? Hermione you should let the Ministry handle the cases of abuse and keep to your own business," Percy told her bluntly, before turning on his heel. "I'll be by in the morning to see that the doors are magically barred."

"Mr. Malfoy, you poor lad," Mrs. Du Marier began sadly, her gaze softening and falling on Malfoy. "To be shackled to this monstrosity. Your father is without peace in his grave and your darling mother must not sleep at night knowing your fate."

"I prefer it to being executed," Malfoy allowed, his voice devoid of emotion. He remembered the Du Mariers. They were not in the close circle of the Dark Lord's followers but they were well known to contribute ample sums of money to his cause.

"Oh, you surely don't mean that. Death would have been honorable. You would have given your life for a cause you believed in. Such a tragedy," she murmured again, shaking her head sadly.

"Was that a cause you also believed in?" Neville asked, shrewdly making Hermione very proud of his defiant and authoritative stance.

With some satisfaction Hermione noticed the elder Du Marier pulling his sleeve down more securely, while his wife and son glared at Neville. "No, that cause wasn't one I supported. However, those days are over. As the Minister says the sooner we put them behind us the better."

"Neville," Percy called sharply from the doorway at front. "We need to be going. There are some more witnesses that need to be briefed."

Keeping a calculating eye on the Du Mariers Neville motioned for them to go ahead of him, and then followed, not daring to look back at Hermione or Malfoy. To his surprise Malfoy had grumbled about the task of searching the shop because he was afraid it would upset Hermione, not because he was actually forced to work in some capacity. It didn't matter to him really, but he felt a little better leaving Hermione with Malfoy than he did the Du Mariers or Percy.

When the doors closed Hermione walked forward and locked them first with her keys and then a charm. Sighing, she finally took in the entire sight of her shop, what she had built, and the disarray, no the destruction, overwhelmed her. Nothing stood neatly anywhere. Glass figurines, wands, robes, paintings, everything was strewn over the floors broken and misshapen.

"What did the Du Mariers say to you when you were alone with them?" Malfoy broke the silence with the question. A second later she heard his manacles clink on a table when he had removed them.

"Nothing," she mumbled absently, bending down to retrieve a broken vase that was once in the shape of a falcon.

"They didn't just stand by and let you be. I know them too well. What did they say," he demanded again, his voice growing closer as he walked forward.

"Nothing!" Hermione shouted back, raising flashing chocolate colored eyes to slash at him with malice.

He didn't appear shocked or upset by her tone. In fact Draco kept walking toward her. "Go ahead, yell, shout, break something, if there's anything left that isn't broken already. We'll fix it later."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Hermione accused, slamming what was left of the falcon vase to the floor. More pieces flew in different directions.

"Not particularly," Draco answered, crossing his arms and leaning against a table to her left. "Why should I?"

"Because this is what you've always wanted isn't it? The dirty, useless, Mudblood has finally fallen from grace, is a suspect in the eyes of the Ministry, and you've got yourself a front row seat for the entire performance."

"The way I see it I'm as insulted as you are," he said, shrugging his shoulders and reminding himself that no matter how angry she made him, no matter how many insults or assumptions she might make, she was hurting. The people she had trusted most in the world, the illustrious Ministry of Magic had turned their backs on her in a sense. Draco knew what it felt like to be betrayed by what you thought was truthful in your eyes.

"Oh, Gods and Merlin himself I can't stand it when you're trying to mock me," Hermione growled, shoving past him.

"It's true. I wasn't there at the manor the day the Ministry came and searched but I can only imagine. Today again the Ministry has falsely accused a Malfoy of wrongdoing." He watched her back as she retreated waiting to hear her response to his offhanded mention of their marriage.

Hermione halted in mid step, but didn't turn to look at him. "They didn't do a thing to you Malfoy. I don't know what you mean."  
"You damn well know I meant you," he said a bit callously before he could stop himself. Checking his temper Draco gentled his voice. "Hermione, I warned you about Percy. Now do you believe me? He doesn't care as long as he's held in high esteem in the eyes of the Minister and the wealthy families."

"That's something else. You, Draco Malfoy, get to tell the stupid little Mudblood I told you so," she laughed at her own statement wickedly. "How does it feel? Having the upper hand again?"

"Not as good as I thought it would to be honest," he muttered realizing that much was true. Even though he'd decided to make her remain his wife and had planned to both spoil her and make her bend to his wishes, the victory of today wasn't as sweet as he'd thought it would be. "Give me your wand and I'll see if I can fix some of the robes over there. Stack books if it that's where you want to start first."

"I don't give a damn about books and robes now," she shouted in desperation. "Percy was upstairs in my apartment. He went through my things, my clothes, books, journals, everything!"

"That part I'm extremely displeased about myself. No man wants another

pilfering through his wife's knickers, but its over now and…"

"It's not your place to care one way or the other!" She threw her hands up in defeat and buried her face in them in shame. "Oh, just go away. Go downstairs, something, anything, just get away from me!"

"Hermione, you can scream all you want. Go ahead it'll make you feel better instead of holding it in, but it's not my fault what happened." This having patience with an angry woman wasn't an easy thing to do even if you liked them somewhat. Draco didn't care if she threw a tantrum right now. It would probably do her good. He just didn't want her misplacing blame to him, and to be the target of her anger. After all he intended at some point in the day to pick up where they left off that morning. She couldn't be angry with him if he wanted to get his own way later.

"Of course it's never your fault. All Pureblooded families are alike. Stick together, keep out the vermin, set out poison traps for Mudbloods like we're cockroaches, or rats, or something," Hermione snarled, but her voice was muffled with her face still covered by her trembling hands.

"If you want to get into an argument about our heritages, then fine. I can't help it that I was born into a Pureblooded family anymore than you can help it that you were born to a family of Muggles. We are what we are, and we can't change it now." Maybe he should try that Muggle concept of counting to ten before he starting shouting back at her the next time she said something unreasonable and thoroughly tainted with her overly analytical logic.

"That's the worst speech you've ever made, some of your explanations in potions class excluded." Hermione dropped her hands from her face to stare at him with incredulous anger.

That was it then. He'd tried to be calm; he'd even tried to sound soothing when he spoke to her. Hermione wasn't interested in being sensible. "Merlin's arse. I'm trying to be kind and you're acting as though I'm to blame for this entire thing. I'm not the one running around in the dark getting chased by gypsies and Gods know what else. I'm not the one sneaking around and marrying men condemned to death, and then when things don't go as planned, ignoring the vows I made."

"I'm trying to correct that second mistake as we speak. Neville assured me the papers will be ready in just a few more weeks," Hermione replied heatedly, clenching her fists at her sides. He wasn't trying to be nice he was trying to bait her. Malfoy didn't care if her feelings were hurt or her pride. He was just glad he'd been there to witness her disgrace.

"That mistake, as you call it, will stand. I won't sign anything, and as soon as this mess with Weasley is solved I'm revealing the marriage certificate and having myself freed," he informed her. There, she would have to deal with his intentions sooner or later. He wasn't going to keep delicately sidestepping her feelings on the matter forever.

"We'll see about that. Now, go away. I told you once before I won't say it again." Gathering her self-control Hermione stalked back into the storeroom deciding to tackle boxing up the books and other odds and ends sure to be scattered about.

As she flounced behind the curtain Draco wanted to shake her senseless. Hermione still didn't understand he had no intention of divorcing her. Malfoy's didn't divorce. In fact, ancient ancestors had actually performed unbreakable ceremonies where should one spouse ever try and leave the other they would perish. That was a bit extreme, but somewhere in the back of his mind whenever she was being particularly difficult about the whole situation he would see some of the merit in such an oath.

As always, Hermione's wand rested on the counter, just to the right of the money chest. Gritting his teeth Draco almost decided against it, but then slowly walked over and grabbed the wand. He was getting too weak where she was concerned. His father would have long ago reprimanded him for not simply putting her in her place, and having the entire matter solved. Then again, his father had never really been well liked by his mother for the most part so his ideas on marriage were probably incorrect.

_"Reparo,"_ Draco began to whisper at various objects around the shop. If Hermione didn't appreciate this in some capacity he knew he wouldn't be able to control his temper. He was humbling himself in a sense for her, and she was damn well going to be thankful for it.


	12. Trust is Earned, Not Given

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_Sorry that I didn't update again last week. I've been having terrible morning, actually all day sickness, and yesterday we had terrible weather. There were tornado warnings all day yesterday so, again I apologize for not updating like I promised. Hope you all will still hang in there with me. Take care everyone._

_Celtic_

Chapter 12

Trust is Earned, not Given

As calmly as she was able Hermione bent down and sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, she quietly proceeded to stack some nearby books into a box. She had intended to go upstairs first, to set her room to rights, but now, she couldn't go up there yet. Instead, she mutely packed books back into a box and waited for her anger to subside.

For over an hour Hermione sat in the back, by herself, not hearing anything from the front of the shop. Malfoy was lazy, and it was Sunday. He'd probably gone down to the cellar without her noticing and was lying on his cot gloating. Hermione Granger, the ugly, worthless, little Mudblood had been humiliated before his very eyes. It was a sight he would savor for the rest of his life.

Grabbing another book Hermione noticed how the binding was slightly frayed and grimaced, about to rise and retrieve her wand to fix it. The book's pages flapped about when she went to examine the binding more closely and several loose pieces of paper fell out. Carefully setting the book to her side Hermione picked the papers up, about to simply stuff them inside when a photograph peeked from between the pages. Pulling it out she was surprised to see three figures staring back at her that were very familiar.

Hermione had only seen Malfoy's mother a handful of times, but it was Narcissa, holding a tiny baby and standing rigidly in the embrace of her husband, Lucius. Her blonde hair was severely pulled back into a tight knot, which was probably fastened at her neck, and her eyes were a dull blue, emotionless, and empty. This was obviously not a happy family photo, for even in his younger years Lucius possessed a domineering sneer of disdain that marred his flawless complexion.

It was odd to have such a picture in a book, and so curious, Hermione opened the cover careful of the binding. Everything was handwritten in elegant script. She had never seen such beautiful penmanship. There were dates as earlier as nineteen seventy-seven at the tops of the pages and paragraph after paragraph of detail. Flipping gingerly over to the front cover page she already knew she would find the owner to be one Narcissa Malfoy. How had her diary ended up in an old box of books?

Well, she had purchased a good deal of books from the Malfoy library and had selfishly kept them back from being set out for sale just yet. Even though Malfoy had been an insufferable git he had impeccable taste in just about everything and Hermione wanted a first chance to skim the books herself, for any valuable volumes to add to her collection. Still, it was odd that such a thing would happen unless there had been a mistake. Malfoy had said the Ministry searched his own home. As thorough and destructive as their searches were the diary could have been misplaced.

Sighing, Hermione realized a harrowing fact. Malfoy had actually been sympathetic as she thought about it now with a clearer head. He'd been in the same situation. Rather, his mother had when his father's death was announced and the Ministry saw the opportunity to search for further evidence against the entire Malfoy family. They weren't innocent, far from it, but Lucius had been the one to draw the family closer to Voldemort. He had been the one to delve so far into madness that his family suffered for it.

Casting her gaze down at the diary Hermione knew she had the obligation to give it to Malfoy. Also, it would be rude to read it since Narcissa was still alive, in hiding it was believed, but alive. Then again, wouldn't the Ministry want to read it to see if there were any clues as to where Narcissa might have fled to or other evil crimes that Lucius committed at the command of the Dark Lord? No, the Ministry hadn't helped her or stood by her when she was trying to better others lives. Why should she offer them the one last thing that Malfoy had to remind him of one of his parents?

Standing Hermione left the remaining books for later and walked back to the front of the shop, just in case he was still there. She stopped short gasping slightly when she pushed the curtain back. Everything was in place, well almost but she could fix the few things that needed to be rearranged. Everything was clean and repaired also. Now she felt more than a little mortified at her earlier behavior.

"Malfoy?" she called out in almost a whisper, glancing around to see if he was nearby.

"If you're going to complain about where everything ended up I'm not going to listen. You change the entire layout daily so I doubt even you would remember where everything was from one day to the next."

Walking forward Hermione saw Malfoy sitting on the floor leaning back against the wall with a stack of books to his side. Truly humbled she shook her head as she came toward him. "No, everything is perfect. You didn't have to. You could have left it and…"

"And you could have let Weasley see that I refused to clean your dingy cellar as well," he interrupted, but didn't take his attention from the books. He was avidly reading the covers as though searching for a specific title.

Apologizing to Malfoy for her outburst earlier was out of the question. That was far too friendly, and after what had almost happened that morning Hermione needed to put significant space between them. Giving him the diary was small thanks, and all she could offer. "I found something in the back. I thought you might be interested in having it."

Hermione held out the worn book for Malfoy to take. His eyes did rise to meet hers then and he grasped the book. For a moment he didn't know what it was but as careful as she had been he opened the cover. There was no way he could have hidden the surprise that came over his features and she was pleased for some unknown reason that she had gotten such a response.

Lowering herself, Hermione sat on her knees and leaned back on her heels, watching him marvel over the diary. "There was a photo that fell out with some stray papers. I put it back in."

"You could have given this to the Ministry," Malfoy whispered strangely cautious. "It could have been used as evidence to find my mother and use her as a witness. Why didn't you?"

"Don't you think the Ministry has picked through enough of our belongings for the time being?" Hermione shrugged, not sorry in the least she hadn't turned the diary over. Malfoy had helped her today, for whatever reasons of his own, and giving him the diary seemed like the only right thing to do.

"Yes, I'd think so," he agreed finally taking his gaze off the diary to stare back at her. "I suppose you can be grateful the Ministry Weasel didn't try and question you about last night."

"I suppose. That would have been preferable," she drawled and rolled her eyes.

"No, I don't think so. You don't lie well, never have." Hermione shot Malfoy an aggravated glare and he held up a hand. "Now that isn't an insult, it's kind of charming really, but not when you're trying to convince pricks like Weasley you're innocent."

"I am innocent," Hermione stated firmly, believing it completely.

"Yes and no. If you look at it you've defied a direct order from the Ministry to return a house elf. Are you sure you're not ready to give up the good fight and just admit it's not worth the hassle?"

"Then they win," she answered, as though it was the simplest explanation in the world.

"They, the Purebloods, the Du Mariers in particular? You still didn't answer me before. What did they say to you?" They had threatened her most likely, but Draco wanted to hear her say it. Hermione needed to realize her position, and quickly, while she was still somewhat ahead in the game.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered and started to stand.

Malfoy caught Hermione's arm and kept her from coming to her feet. "It matters more than you think. Did they have any specific threats or did they just try and intimidate you? Did they mention anything that might make you think they were the ones to send the box of chocolates?"

"They were very vague, but yes, they told me they'd be watching and that there were others," Hermione finally answered grudgingly. The truth behind trying to keep Malfoy from discovering what had been said was she couldn't understand his protectiveness at the present. There was no reason for it, or at least not one she wanted to think about or accept.

"End this now. Give them their fucking creature back," Malfoy ordered, tersely.

"No!" Hermione cried, outraged he would say such a thing. "Poor Prinny would be dead before the night was out if I sent him back to them. They'd make an example of him to the other house elves."

"Do you fucking think I care about what happens to whatever his name is? Forgive me if I'm more interested in my wife's well being instead of a house elf," he ground out tightening his hold on her wrist unconsciously.

"I'm a widow in every way that matters and soon you won't have to be forced to connect your name with mine," she snapped back trying to pull herself free.

"We're back to this again and I'm getting sick to death of this argument," Draco sighed with heavy irritation. "Once more, and pay close attention, because next time I'll use actions instead of words. I'm not divorcing you, we will be admitting very soon that we are married, and if I have to I'll use the old laws passed by the Ministry to ensure that you obey my orders to stop this elvish idiocy!"

"Those laws are in the process of being changed, and I don't have to stay married to you if I don't want to," Hermione challenged growing wary of him, but not out of fear of him, but herself. He would use actions next time? Images of that morning unbidden came to the surface of her mind, and she squelched them she hoped before she started blushing.

"What if you wanted to, stay married that is. Unless something drastic changed in the course of a year you didn't have too many prospects for a husband if I remember," he said much too innocently his hold on her lessening.

Hermione glanced back with a mixture of confusion and shock displayed over her delicate features. "What are you playing at now Malfoy? For years you made it perfectly clear I wasn't worth licking the dirt from your shoes, and now you're acting desperate to avoid a divorce from a marriage neither of us wanted to begin with."

"No games, just thinking of a mutually beneficial agreement that's all." For some reason seconds ago she'd started blushing. Since she had removed her robes to start cleaning earlier and she was only wearing a scooped neck t-shirt and shorts, the scarlet tint to her skin was visible traveling down her neck and to her breasts.

"The last agreement we made wasn't exactly beneficial," Hermione reminded him, wondering why she hadn't just stood up and walked away already. She had given him the diary she should let the subject drop.

"At first we wouldn't have thought so, but I don't know. Being married obviously is advantageous to me, seeing as it's a way to get my freedom. Then you could use the money having the name Malfoy affords for your research and whatever other little charities you can think of." Draco paused then seeing her contemplating something and shook his head firmly. "Not this elvish shite of yours, but nice, quiet, safe charities. Go dedicate some money to a theater or museum. Donate to a children's hospital, Muggle even if you want, but get yourself out of this society for the elves. Leave it for the Ministry when they're ready."

"You'll never understand," Hermione sighed wearily. "You've never known what it was like to be forced into the service of someone you can't stand or be reprimanded for the smallest infractions. You've been spoiled and coddled your entire life and never had to get your hands dirty once."

For some reason her blatantly simple assumptions didn't anger Malfoy as they might have long ago. Neither she nor anyone else really knew how he had been raised, and by what standards he was made to live up to. Of course, everyone automatically assumed he'd had a physically abusive home life when anyone ever questioned him about his evasive mentions of his parents.

That wasn't the case. Lucius Malfoy was far too proud to lay a hand on him and his mother too cold and timid to exert any will of her own at all. His father merely controlled with his voice, innuendos, and of course his expectations. That, Malfoy admitted freely now, was another reason at first he'd decided to stay married to Hermione. One last laugh in the face of the man who had never allowed him a modicum of sanity or freewill, and if Lucius was a ghost in any form he was indeed rolling angrily in his grave.

"Not in the sense you mean, but that's not the subject I want to discuss. There's not just the money, because of course you'd never marry for money," Draco teased, changing the topic toward something other than himself.

"You know why I needed the money," Hermione defended, still ashamed that she had used such a disastrous and devious plan to begin with.

"For your noble causes, yes I know. I'm just trying to give you reasons to help you adjust. Malfoy's don't divorce Hermione, and besides doesn't the idea of marrying into a Pureblooded family appeal to you just a little?" Draco hadn't meant to start into this issue so thoroughly before convincing her a bit more of other benefits to marriage. This conversation might have gone more smoothly if Weasley and Longbottom hadn't intruded with the Du Mariers on their heels this morning.

"Blood doesn't matter to me Malfoy and not because I'm a Muggle-born, but because it just isn't something worth worrying about. Poverty, hunger, politics, the under privileged, and of course the dark wizards still scattered about merit more concern I think," Hermione answered truthfully, having never looked at people differently because of their origin of birth, but judged them for their beliefs and character.

There it was again, that maddening and endearing innocence that both humbled and infuriated him. Hermione was so strong and loyal, but at times her pure thoughts of how to protect and defend the world were sadly miscalculated. She sat back staring at him honestly believing that blood did not matter, that prejudices would someday disappear, and all she needed to worry about was doing as much good as she could. "Those are righteous causes, but why don't you think about yourself this time. You'd have a position in society almost equal to Potter's. I haven't seen the manor in a few years so I don't know what type of shape it is in but we can repair it if we have to. My inheritance would be substantial enough and with proper investment would grow over time."

"Those are very practical reasons, but then again they're not. By admitting to the world I married you and in the way I did I'd lose Harry, Ron, Ginny, the Weasleys. Not to mention Neville's career would be ruined and he'd never find decent employment again."

"That's a snobbish way to look at it," Draco said, somewhat insulted. He was a criminal with a record now at the Ministry, but he was still a Malfoy. Power, money, esteem, the name itself projected those personas. Soon his excursion to Azkaban and time as a servant to his wife would be forgotten, or at least no mentioned in polite circles.

"It's a truthful way to look at it. Your mother would disown you, the rest of the Purebloods would consider you a Blood Traitor, and you might never recover socially," Hermione explained, not understanding why he was pretending to be hurt by her remark.

"To not care about blood you're obsessed with it as an excuse to get rid of me. We don't have to continue to stay married out of practicality alone. This morning you didn't seem too adverse to the other benefits of marriage." The blush that had started to fade from her skin intensified again. Purity was an arousing characteristic Malfoy decided, and hoped she wouldn't lose all of her innocence through the years.

"I didn't know what I was doing. I thought it was a…" Hermione clamped her mouth shut and hurriedly got to her feet.

"A what," Draco asked curiously, tucking the diary under his arm and standing as well. He left the books on the floor to the side no longer needing them. Ironically his wife had found exactly what he was looking for.

"Nothing," she stammered keeping her back turned and walking away. If she could get upstairs and away from him it would be for the better. This morning had been too close.

"What happened this morning wasn't nothing and it wasn't something that shouldn't have happened weeks ago," Draco pursued, but kept walking at enough of a distance so as not to overwhelm her too much.

"It shouldn't have happened at all. Malfoy, I'm going upstairs to clean my flat. Thank you for helping down here, and you're free to do what you want for the rest of the day," she called over her shoulder disappearing behind the curtain.

Hermione was too naïve to realize what she had just allowed. He was free to do what he wanted for the rest of the day? Well, if she'd really meant that she probably wouldn't have liked his ideas on what he would be doing and to who.

However Malfoy's conscience, a nuisance that kept plaguing him more and more where she was concerned, halted his train of thought. Blatantly coming out and mauling her in the basement hadn't had the desired affect, neither had ignoring her physically somewhat and waiting until she got used to him. Then, this morning, he'd thought he'd made exceptional progress. Hermione had nearly given in. No, she wasn't even trying to hold back, or stop him.

She was going to say she thought she was dreaming. Well, that was at least a small victory. In her dreams she was open to the possibilities making love to him could offer. Still, another approach was in order. Draco wasn't sure how to go about it, but he'd try and be pleasant all of the time and not just when he wanted something. It had gotten him the small token of trust, his mother's diary, earlier. If he was kind to Hermione the majority of their hours together she'd have no choice but to notice his other charms.

This also would mean more time sleeping alone in the cellar, but for some reason Malfoy actually believed she was worth it. He was going to have a different life than his parents or die trying. Opening the diary again the pages turned naturally to where Hermione had put the picture.

Draco had always hated that photo. Not because it was one of his first pictures as an infant, but because it was the most truthful form of expression his family had ever allowed to be photographed. Outsiders rarely saw it, and another had been taken so it could be given to the Daily Prophet. Fake smiles and tears of joy were employed before the second photo was shot. The one he held now was much more accurate.

The images blurred slightly before him, but not from frustrated tears. His father's face merged into his own and his mother suddenly looked like Hermione, miserable, broken, and bitter. Draco shoved the photo back into the crease of the pages and snapped the book shut. No, they would not become like the people who had raised him. If, no when, they had children they would involve themselves, admit that they loved them, and watch them grow with pride and encouragement. He even went so far in that moment to vow that no matter what their differences Hermione would never have a cause to frown or appear unhappy in family photos such as the one hidden in the diary.

A week passed after Percy and Neville had leveled Hermione's shop to utter rubble and the injunction against her still stood. The Du Mariers were not backing away from their claim. They believed, and still did, that Hermione Granger was responsible for their house elf's disappearance. So after learning that there was nothing to be done Hermione, kept to herself in her flat most of the day and researched, wrote incantations, and lamented life's unfair cruelty.

Despite his gentle protests Malfoy went to work at Fred and George's shop at Hermione's request. He hated every moment of it and liked it even less that she was alone. The Du Mariers were waiting for something, or maybe another family was helping them, and they were planning Hermione's demise. If she were alone all of the time it would be easy to over come her. Well, not easy she was fierce in a battle, but alone she wouldn't stand the same odds of coming out victorious as they did.

"You're going to the Weasleys' again tomorrow," she'd said the moment he was escorted back by Fred. The overgrown oaf always walked him back to Hermione's as though he wasn't aware of the way himself.

"Thanks Fred, I'll have him sent over before seven," Hermione called not looking up from the counter where she sat with quill and paper in hand.

Fred actually looked at Malfoy a bit questioningly, but finally shrugged, and said a quick goodbye and thank you to Hermione. Shutting the door behind him Malfoy waited until Weasley was out of sight down the street and his manacles dropped from his wrist."They're running out of things for me to do," he said casually pulling up a stool and sitting across from her. "I'd much rather stay here with you anyway."

"They're open for business, I'm possibly shut down forever. I'm even thinking of offering to let them buy out the rest of your years in service to me," she said frowning over a particularly awkward line in the spell she was studying.

"You aren't closed forever and if you are then so be it. What can you do about it? By the time the Ministry gets around to actually treating you fairly we'll be back at Malfoy Manor and it won't matter." Hermione wasn't really entertaining the idea of selling him again was she? That was demoralizing in more ways than one.

"I told you that I wasn't staying married to you. Neville will have the papers I know it," Hermione said, almost desperately. Why had Malfoy started being pleasant? Was he still feeling sorry for her about the Ministry search? Everyday since he had always greeted her politely, warmly really, and now he was trying to soothe her. It was an unorthodox way he went about it, but to him he was actually comforting her.

"Remember what I said the last time we talked about this," he reminded her taking the quill out of her hand laying it to the side. "Now, this divorce discussion is over, forever. We're married, we're going to stay that way, and I think it's for the best."

Malfoy was deliberately trying to unnerve her she thought by taking her hand in his after he tossed her quill aside and rubbing her skin gently with his thumb. "I don't think it's for the best. I still don't understand why you're so determined to have your way about this."

Admittedly his own motives were becoming a bit clouded to him as well, but Draco didn't explain that to her. "You gave me something to think about in prison to pass the time. Everyone had someone on the outside, and in a sense so did I, a wife. Now, just don't analyze this too much."

"I have to get back to my research," Hermione mumbled, snatching her hand away finding it was easier to continue her dislike of him if he wasn't touching her so affectionately.

"Stop it," Draco snapped, suddenly jerking the paper out of her grasp and tossing it aside to land near the quill. "You're angry, you feel betrayed, and you need someone to blame and hate. I understand all of that believe me. I'd rather have you ranting at me or debating than sitting here day after day picking your brain for new spells and reworking old ones."

Hermione finally sighed and looked up at him. Her dark eyes were red rimmed and from more than simple strain from staring at the same piece of parchment for hours on end. She had been sitting and crying no doubt, and the reason she sent him daily to the Weasleys' was probably so she could mourn her broken dreams in peace. "I don't blame anyone but myself. I broke the law by forcing Neville into helping me and marrying you for my inheritance. Nnow that I'm actually trying to do something decent I'm going to be punished for it. Everything has consequences and now I'm seeing that."

Draco had never seen her cry before he realized. Not except if he counted the brief show of tears before he and Neville were ordered to the back of the shop the week before. It wasn't something he was ready to deal with, or particularly felt comfortable in watching. The Granger from Hogwarts never cried when he'd insulted her, called her foul names, or hexed her mercilessly. However, seeing her daily and having come to know her more intimately, Hermione the woman was as sensitive as other females. Maybe she was more sensitive if she went to such great lengths to hide herself and her more tender emotions.

"I've said before that I don't care if you ever save another lost elf again. I've ordered you actually to give the society up altogether, but apparently you're too kind hearted to abandon your cause. Was it wrong to sneak out a Ministry prisoner? Probably, in the eyes of the Ministry most definitely, but consider this. You saved me just like one of your abused little creatures."

Hermione's frown dissolved into a mask of confusion. "Saved you? How so?"

"I was sentenced to death, about to be forgotten and executed without a second thought. Then you came and offered me a chance at a small reprieve before the dreaded day I was supposed to die. Maybe you set something into motion that day that lead to the change in my fortune. I'm not sure, but either way for some reason knowing there was someone still in the world I was connected to, even if it was only on paper, made prison more bearable." It was the truth but Draco hadn't planned on telling her that until after he had secured her agreement to remain his wife. Hermione needed to hear it however. Watching her guilt eat away at her was almost painful and he wondered how she had managed to keep her secret for so long after they had parted a little over a year ago.

Surprisingly the git was sincere and it astounded Hermione completely. All the while she had thought him dead and gone, having suffered a fate he did not deserve, he had been thinking of her, waiting to see her again. How odd really, but when one was imprisoned what few connections they had to the outside world they probably held dear. "You didn't deserve to die and I'm glad you didn't, but that isn't a basis for remaining married. We're getting along better, we might even say we've managed to develop an awkward friendship really, but that's all. You'll sign the papers and…"

Draco's hand came up and over her mouth to silence her, knowing if she said the word divorce one more time he'd say something that would ruin the moment. She was open to discussion with him, and he wasn't going to frighten her into a retreat. "The only thing I'm signing are the papers that state I'm free after I've figured out a way to reveal our marriage without inciting Percy. He'd love to appease the Du Mariers and drag you to the Ministry for any reason now I'm afraid."

Waiting impatiently for him to remove his hand from her mouth Hermione glared at him momentarily before he complied. "You're not trying to keep me in this marriage to upset Harry are you?" That thought came to mind from time to time, and made sense to her. Harry would hate, and loathe, knowing that she was bound to Malfoy, and out of pure spite Malfoy might keep her just to mock his enemy.

"What does Potter have to do with it? Does he have some secret love for you or something? The miniature Weasel not enough?" So, she thought he was capable of only wanting her for the sake of aggravating Potter. That was a perk as far as their agreement was involved but only that. He wanted her for far more selfish and carnal reasons.

"No, but…" Now that was not helping her. Hermione was running out of grounds to accuse him of having ulterior motives toward their marital state.

"Yes, Potter will grind on my last nerve until we're both dead and buried. Yes, your Weasley clan will make me barking for the rest of my life. Yes, I still think you're too smart and too opinionated for your own good. Does that mean I'm going to waste the rest of my adult life staying in a marriage I don't want just to deal some twisted retribution? Give me some credit really? Prison changes you. Things that mattered before, things that you thought would always mean the most don't suddenly. I have different priorities now." What he left unsaid was what his priorities were.

After Hermione had given him his mother's diary Draco decided he did want a family life. A somewhat quiet, but cheerful one, without talk of dark magic and politics constantly. Malfoy Manor was out of the way of the world, and if they put their own touch into rebuilding it, then the austere, lackluster quality would cease to exist. Instead of silent and dark winding halls Draco wanted to hear laughter, and have every candle lit all of the day and night. There had been too much darkness in his early years already. Having been released from prison and living with his wife, even if she could be stubborn and unreasonable, had shown him a vibrant spark that had always been missing in his life.

"We're complete opposites. We'll want to kill one another before the year is out," Hermione predicted solemnly. "Are you hungry? I could make something if you are?"

"Will you be using magic I hope?" This request was a sincere one. Hermione, bless her, was terrible in the kitchen without a wand. Those Muggles had thoroughly ruined her for the more fine tasting dishes Draco was sure.

To his surprise she laughed and raised an eyebrow wickedly. "Maybe, maybe not. Depends on if you plan to behave yourself if I let you stay here with me tomorrow."

"I suppose if you promised not to ship me off to the Weasleys' I could suffer through whatever you manage to prepare," he smiled back genuinely pleased that she was not going to mope at least for the time being. Hermione had changed the subject, but Draco was more hopeful than he had been in a long time. She was willing to consider it, staying married. Well, she hadn't ended the conversation talking about divorce. Maybe kindness was the better approach, courting, wooing, whatever one called it. This tactic had much more potential.


	13. Return of the Potter's

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 13

Return of the Potters

Harry and Ginny continued to put off coming home until just a few days before Halloween. Ron's visits had grown fewer and farther between, with Hermione telling him it was best if he kept his distance. So far Percy hadn't suspected his brother of being part of the Prinny plot. He thought he was being the proper little trainee, coming to work daily and keeping his nose clean. That was how Hermione wanted it. Neville was already treading on thin ice with their secret from a year ago, and now trying to help her resolve that error.

This left Hermione with only Malfoy for company, and strangely she didn't mind the fact all that much. Since the day the Ministry had searched the shop they had called an unspoken truce it seemed. One day they had actually played Wizard's Chess on an old board Hermione had found in an odds and ends box in the storeroom. She didn't win, but Malfoy wasn't as insufferable to deal with as Ron when he repeatedly triumphed over her.

She supposed if she hadn't had him for a companion she might have starting going a little insane. Not having a purpose, something to do, was infuriating. Once they had rearranged the storeroom properly following the search, and Malfoy had cleaned and straightened the shop itself, there was nothing left to do.

It did give her the opportunity to pay better attention to her research and skim through her history books at a more leisurely rate. Professor McGonagall had ceased their correspondence at Hermione's request in case the Ministry would ever suspect her of being part of the society. So, Hermione had reluctantly one day offered to let Malfoy peruse her essays and incantations.

He had read every word it seemed, and had done so quietly without immediately complaining or finding fault. Nodding, he handed it back to Hermione, but said nothing. Silence from Malfoy, she was learning, was more telling than an outright scathing remark. "There's something wrong isn't there?"

"Not entirely no, but not everyone is as thorough as you. You might want to think about shortening the length a bit. Then, the part in that essay about Divination and needing a spell that enables a wizard the ability without drawing from their inner strength completely ruins the purpose of the subject. Just because you gave up in that area in school before you even got started doesn't mean that others aren't proud to try something unknown and mysterious."

"I didn't just give up," Hermione replied, feeling slightly outraged. "It wasn't a subject that I felt I could devote enough of my time to. I was busy with other things than school if you remember."

"Yes, chasing Potter around and fighting Death Eaters I know," Draco drawled, never liking it when he had to relive the past as Potter's nemesis. "But, you did give it up. I always kind of wondered why. The Granger from school never gave up on anything until that class."

"There was no way to study for it, prepare. I didn't…" she struggled to find the words. Hermione had dropped the class because she didn't have any groundwork to go from. Everything came from deep inner thoughts and struggles. Nothing was written down or any definite technique applied. You were expected to know what way to go about it yourself, and to find your own energies to send and receive the information of what was yet to come. All a lot of nonsense she thought then, and still did.

"You quit something. Admit it." It was true that he had always found it strange she'd given up after such a short time in the class. At the time Draco only wondered about it in passing, now he thought he knew the reason. "It wasn't too hard, it just was too frightening. You might have had to open yourself up to other possibilities and emotions and that scared you more, then and now, rather than a battle with Voldemort himself."

"That's not the reason. I have emotions, and I'm not afraid to show them," Hermione defended herself, wondering why she had ever thought Malfoy could be trusted to read anything concerning her research.

"Yes, you're emotional and probably passionate about more than just those books of yours but you'd never let anyone know it." Not outwardly or without a little coaxing, but if he kept his patience just a bit longer he'd have her proving to him and herself how passionate she could be.

"I knew it," Hermione sighed, almost triumphant that she had been confirmed right. "I knew you'd resort to trying to argue or insult me."

"The truth isn't something anyone likes to hear, but I didn't think we were arguing. I thought we were discussing your essay and…"

"You were personally attacking me," she said, with a little outrage present in her tone. "Saying I quit a subject years ago in school because I wasn't good enough for it."

"I never said you couldn't have continued and mastered the subject. I said you gave up too easily. That's not personally attacking you, and neither is pointing out that you're scared of your own emotions." He had maybe taken the discussion too far. Her ideas were concise and her spell of Foresight to help those not mastered in Divination was worth a second look. The chance to debate with her had been too good to pass up however.

"Telling me I'm afraid of emotions? This from the boy who used anger and bullying all through his life to hide whatever he was thinking or feeling," Hermione challenged. Even if he was right to a degree about why she had withdrawn from Divination she wasn't going to tell him so.

"You're right, I did. Anger is a nice solid emotion," Draco admitted, remembering all of the times he'd concealed the softer feelings in his younger years. "So is happiness, but there were times you put on a fake smile and skipped along with Weasley and Potter because you didn't know what else to do."

"That's not true I never…" she began protesting, but he didn't let her finish.

"You can't sit there and tell me that you didn't think Potter wasn't the tiniest bit dense for not noticing you instead of, who was it, Chang before the baby Weasley? Then of course the Weasel went from girlfriend to girlfriend until he settled with that Brown bint for awhile right?"

"We were only friends and I knew that. How did this topic come up? I thought you were going to honestly critique my essay and spells not start a small scale battle."

"All right then, I concede, and we'll go back to talking about that essay," Draco held up his hands realizing he had hit a nerve that still might be raw.

"Thank you. Do you think I should shorten the incantation still? Having Foresight isn't something that's easy to accomplish even with Divination. I wanted to cover everything as thoroughly as I could." Hermione scrutinized the paper again, holding it up for review.

Malfoy stood up from across the table they were sitting at and walked around to her side. "Yes, and maybe not. I'm not sure. You'd have to ask McGonagall really, but if I was a student again I'd hate the idea of any homework related to this spell."

"It is a little complicated isn't it?" she amended, biting her lip before placing the end of the quill between her teeth in a thoughtful frown.

"Not everyone sits and dreams of writing scroll after scroll of parchment about this sort of thing. Then again, for the more advanced student it wouldn't matter probably."

Malfoy purposefully moved closer until he was pressed against her side. Developing a friendship and trust had been more trying than he first thought it would be. Not because Hermione was boring, actually far from it. She was getting better at not being so quick to jump into an argument about menial things between them, she hadn't mentioned divorce in a few days, so that was a good sign, and she smiled and laughed. Until Hermione had smiled and giggled once he hadn't known how much he had wanted to see her do so.

"Oh well, until I can start owling McGonagall again I guess there isn't any reason to continue," she sighed, rolling the parchment up and tying it. "What time is it anyway? Harry's owl said he and Ginny should be getting home today around noon."

"All hail the conquering hero I suppose," Malfoy commented, dryly wondering how said hero was going to respond to his presence in Hermione's life.

She had expected that type of response, but it didn't make it any easier to stand. "Malfoy we're grown up now. We can't keep holding on to the past. Harry's going to have to accept things as they are and so are you."

"How are things?" he asked quietly then tracing the outline of her jaw softly. "Between us I mean? Have you thought anymore about what we've discussed?"

This was what Hermione had feared the most. That Malfoy would begin to behave as he did in her dreams. Lately, her dreams hadn't been nightly occurrences but they were just as haunting. Always he left her before she found that elusive fulfillment leaving her starving, craving for what he offered so readily then would snatch away. With him now touching her as a lover might touch another in an affectionate caress it was difficult to discern dream from reality. That had gotten her into trouble before. "No, I haven't."

Hermione stiffened as Draco kept running his finger over her skin, moving finally to take her chin in his hand gently. Feeling him tilting her face up, and to the side, she wasn't prepared for the darkness that mingled with tenderness. It was almost as if he battled within himself to overcome the shadowy feelings that he had used to mask softer emotions. That gave her a gnawing sense of unease, that he had held those sinister sentiments for so long, he might not be able to completely shed them.

Since Malfoy had come to her with Percy he had not be so inordinately cruel as to do her physical harm. He had sincerely tried to hold himself in check and he seemed adamant about the fact her heritage was not a factor between them. It had taken some time but Hermione believed that now. His reasoning for such an abrupt change in attitude still puzzled her however.

Then there had been his outburst of rage the night she had gone with Percy to the opera. In the end Malfoy had withdrawn, and not gone past a point where he would regret his actions, but why had he reacted so bitterly? A small voice had kept telling Hermione daily that it might be jealousy, but that was just a girlish imagination at work. Malfoy wasn't jealous of anything or anyone. He was too sure of himself for that she surmised.

It would have been slightly exciting if that were the reason for his constant aggravation with Percy. Harry and Ron had only been jealous once, and that was during the Triwizard Tournament when she was with Viktor Krum. The reason had been that Krum was the enemy or so they said, not because they were missing her romantically either one of them. Well, Ron maybe, but that had been a crush and they had dealt with it during their final year of school.

No, Malfoy hated Percy because of his treatment of him in prison and his constant hovering. Except, Percy hadn't been to the shop since the morning following the search. His interest in her had considerably lessened since she had become a suspect of the Ministry she thought wryly.

"Staying married wouldn't be so terrible if you think about it," Draco said, interrupting her thoughts.

Those were nearly the exact words he had used regarding fulfilling the final term of their agreement in the carriage. Even then, when they still held more resentment than good will toward one another, Malfoy hadn't been cruel and vicious. Her body had responded even when her mind had told her it was wrong. Now, her mind was starting to betray her at times as well.

It wasn't fair really. Hermione had always known where she stood with Malfoy. They had nurtured a healthy hate, hate relationship from their first meeting. At the present he was changing the rules and she was letting him. She was helping him at times as well by working at getting along as much as he was himself.

"I always thought I'd get married when I was older, and I was pretty set on the fact that I'd love the person first," she replied almost absently watching the colors contrasting in his eyes. Gray to a dusky blue and then pure silver. Eyes shouldn't be that entrancing.

Malfoy himself faltered then. Of course, now Hermione would behave like a normal female and bring love into the situation. He would have to proceed carefully here. He wouldn't lie, but he wasn't going to crush her either. "Not everyone marries for love. Few people really do in the Wizarding world. Sometimes things grow in time."

Inwardly, Draco sighed in relief. That was a safe answer and vague too. He knew he wanted her for purely lustful reasons. He had developed a tentative friendship with her and enjoyed her company, which was promising. He'd actually admitted to himself that he did care about her, what happened to her, and if she was safe. That was all he could guarantee. He had never been loved by anyone, so if there was even such a thing he wasn't aware of it. Frankly, he didn't know what the emotion felt like or if he knew how to feel it.

"Another business arrangement then isn't it? For you I mean," Hermione sighed, turning her face away. What had she expected, an outpouring of his heart? Malfoy was too guarded for that. She felt silly for being so disappointed in his answer.

"No, I'm not looking at it in that way at all, but would you be more willing to think about it if we considered it that?"

Hermione paused for a moment thoughtful? Any further arrangements with Malfoy would end up like the last one. Always leaving her the defeated party she was sure. "What type of arrangement? Like a trial marriage or something? So many months, and when I decide I can't stand the sight of you anymore you concede to a divorce?"

Malfoy laughed softly at her statement. "Not exactly, more like a wager maybe. You know what it's like to live with me as a companion, but what about the other aspects of marriage?"

"What do you mean? Like fighting over bills, my shopping habits, your late nights away from home?" Hermione drawled, unconvinced of his intentions.

"To be such a bright and cheery thing usually you're awfully cynical about relationships," he noted wondering why she was trying so hard to ignore the aspect he was referring to.

"What are you proposing? Just go ahead and say it so I can refuse."

"Live with me as a wife in every way," Draco took her face in both his hands to keep her from looking away, "and give me until the New Year to prove to you that you've made the right decision."

"You said something about a wager?" Hermione avoided answering right away with another question.

"A game of chess. If I win you agree to what I just asked you. If you win…"  
"You divorce me and let me get on with my life?" Yes, that was what she wanted wasn't it? Of course it was because staying married to Malfoy was a terrible idea, maybe worse than her initial decision to marry him.

"Muggle divorce rates must be on the rise as infatuated as you are with the concept," Draco commented sharply, getting annoyed again.

"I always lose at chess, you know that," she accused, deciding she was losing her good sense since she was considering accepting the challenge.

"Yes, so that's to my advantage."

A soft knock at the front door brought Hermione out of her trance, and she stepped away from Malfoy. Peering toward the door she saw Harry and Ginny starting to peek through the glass, motioning her to come and let them in. Genuinely smiling, she hurried over to do just that.

Almost to the door she stopped suddenly and turned back to Malfoy. "You better put the restraints back on," she whispered urgently.

He was already ahead of her, securing them in place and didn't reply. When Hermione gave him her back Draco did smirk pleased that she had worried about him even in that small manner. It was telling. She didn't want him to be caught and sent back to the Ministry. If he got her agreement about the proposed arrangement he wouldn't have any trouble convincing her that divorce wasn't what she really wanted.

"So you're finally back? Really, was Paris that interesting?" Hermione asked, hugging both Harry and Ginny as they entered the shop.

"Well, actually yes, and if I could convince Harry to move there we would," Ginny cried happily embracing her friend tightly.

Harry drew Hermione into his arms next but he was stiff against her. "Harry, is something wrong?"  
She followed his gaze over her shoulder toward Malfoy, and frowned at him instantly. "I know I didn't tell you about this in my letters, but…"  
"Ron's explained everything and I think you're barmy, but that's not the only thing. Mione' we know what happened with Percy and the whole elf fiasco," Harry began softly.

Hermione's smile faded, and she nodded solemnly. "What's done is done. Nothing I can do about it now except hope that the Du Mariers either get tired of pursuing their claims, or the Ministry finally realizes that they are abusive. Either way I don't know if I'll ever be able to continue my society or open the shop again."

"My brother's a stupid prat Mione," Ginny admonished angrily. "He knows better than to think you'd break the law. You were part of the war, and helped Harry and the others defeat Voldemort for Gods' sakes."  
"There's nothing you can do Ginny, and I want you and Harry to stay out of it," Hermione warned, knowing her conscience couldn't stand it if they were caught up in her problems.

"Mione," Harry started again, trying to reason with her.

"So, what kept you all so long in France?" she changed the subject, readily crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.

Ginny started blushing and Harry beamed with pride. "We eloped," Ginny screamed happily jumping into Hermione's arms again.

"Oh, that's, that's great, but your mum? She's going to be furious you didn't let her and your dad be there." This was excellent news, and suddenly Hermione found herself a little disgruntled that she couldn't have been as happy about her first marriage. She wasn't even allowed to share the name of the groom.

"They knew, and had to keep it secret. We wanted to surprise everyone," Ginny explained, still grinning uncontrollably. "You shouldn't care, you did the same thing yourself remember. We still don't know who you even married."  
"Ginny, the man died and it upsets her to talk about it," Harry quietly urged his wife to change the subject.

"Congratulations Harry. I know you'll be happy," Hermione said, sincerely pleased that they were going to be spending their lives together.

"Yeah, but we don't even know how he died. A train accident you said on your honeymoon in the United States?" Ginny kept prodding, her curiosity as insatiable as Hermione's at times.

Leaning against the counter Malfoy watched, avidly entertained and wondering how Hermione was going to pry herself out of the little Weasley's hold. He had to hand it to the redhead. She was determined when she wanted to be and she didn't seem to want and let the subject drop.

"Someday Ginny when I can explain it all I will, but right now let's just be happy about your own wedding. We need to have a reception or something. Has your mum got anything planned?" Please, just let it go, change the subject, Hermione pleaded silently, finding it more difficult as the days went to trip over the thinly threaded story as it was. She doubted anyone really believed her anymore, but because she managed to express how traumatic the experience had been, they usually let her alone.

"I don't know yet. I'm sure she does, but we weren't talking about that Mione' it's been over a year…"  
"Ginny please," Hermione begged, now true tears starting to form in her eyes. Malfoy would love to jump in at any moment and discredit any further lies she told she was afraid. Harry hadn't said much about his presence yet, but she knew that was coming soon too.

"Fine, but you'll have to talk about it eventually. That may even be brought up if this family keeps going after you. The way you had to get your inheritance might be called into question, and then you'll have to talk about it whether you want to or not," Ginny explained with concern.

Without thinking Hermione glanced behind her at Malfoy, Ginny's sudden theory making her wonder. Could her marriage to him be brought to light if Percy became suspicious and didn't let himself be put off by her assertion she was still mourning? She could see that Ginny's suggestion had struck a chord in Malfoy as well. He was looking thoughtful and concerned.

"I don't think it'll go that far Ginny," Harry assured his wife, smiling at her lovingly and missing the exchange between the others in the room. "Scrimgeour knows Hermione, and he won't let this get out of hand."

Harry turned back to Hermione, his smile as wide as Ginny's. "Mione' we just came by to let you know our wonderful news and thought that you and Ron of course would like to take us to dinner tonight?"

"Harry, I'd love to, but do you really think you should be seen with me right now?" Hermione asked, genuinely worried the Ministry might look down on them for it. Harry of course would have to return to his position as an Auror eventually and if he was linked to Hermione publicly again his job could be in jeopardy as well.

"I don't care about what other people think, you know that. Let the Ministry think what it wants if they're going to believe the Du Mariers. In fact bugger the Du Mariers really if they've got nothing better to do than threaten people and ruin their reputations." Harry frowned slightly at his own statement, but his jubilance at his marriage couldn't be contained and he was smiling again.

"All right, but not tonight, tomorrow. Ron's working late I think, and I doubt Percy's going to let him take any time off," Hermione said wryly, rolling her eyes.

"Okay then. We'll owl you in the morning with the time and place. Our choice of course," Ginny grinned hugging Hermione again. "We are the newlyweds after all."

"I'm glad you're both back home," Hermione whispered, never meaning something so much in her life. If things did turn worse, or the threats increased having Harry home made her feel safer.

"Me too. See you tomorrow," Ginny said linking her arm with Harry's after releasing her friend.

"Malfoy I'm going to want to talk to you about this arrangement," Harry warned, leveling him with a dark glare. "This whole reprieve of yours doesn't make sense to me."

"I won't be able to contain my anticipation until you get around to making time for me then," Malfoy drawled with annoyance. Now with Percy out of the way he couldn't remember why he'd wanted Potter to come home in the first place. He wasn't tolerable at all.

"Take care Mione' and watch out for him," Harry urged kissing her cheek before throwing another scowl in Malfoy's direction.

"He's got his own wife to worry about. He should mind his own fucking business," Malfoy snapped when the door closed and he heard the lock click into place.

Hermione sighed, having expected an outburst but one of a larger scale. "I've been friends with Harry for as long as I can remember. I'll always be his friend so I'm not going to fight with you about it. I'm going to get us something for lunch and when I come back down I don't want to hear anything bad about Ron, Harry, or whoever else you've got a reason to hold a grudge against."

"You still didn't answer me," Draco said, his tone softening. "It's only fair that you give me an opportunity to try and convince you to stay married isn't it? You wouldn't want to be unfair."

"I'll think about it, now do you want sandwiches or something else?" Hermione wasn't just going to give in without giving this proper consideration. Maybe if she let him have his way for a while he'd realize that he wasn't thinking clearly. Staying married only because your family traditions wouldn't let you divorce or to separate wasn't a sound reason.

"I don't suppose you could bring back a roast duckling with new potatoes and…" Draco fell silent at her irritated glare slicing through him. Pretending to be thoroughly dismayed he sighed with exaggeration. "Sandwiches if that's all you can manage."

His mind was already made up, and he had his defenses in place should Snape think he was lying. He couldn't give the professor his mother's diary just yet, and he needed to ask him for something in return. Malfoy couldn't be sure if Snape had the diary he would ever return again, and he needed his help.

The large lanky man crept from the shadows in the alley as midnight approached, wearing a heavier cloak to protect against the elements. The nights were becoming increasingly cooler and winter was starting to threaten the fall season into letting it claim dominance. Still, the professor had come and that was all that mattered.

"Have you found the diary yet?" Snape asked in his usually bored tone.

"No," Malfoy lied, stepping forward from the back door of the shop. "I'm sorry but it may take me a little longer. Things haven't been easy lately."

Snape snorted in an undignified manner. "Yes I've heard about Granger's society and know she's been targeted by some of the well known families."

"The Du Mariers to be exact," Malfoy stated trying to gauge Snape's reaction to that information. If he was involved somehow in seeking to hurt Hermione this would be a certain clue.

"She's more daft than I gave her credit for. All she knows is in those books of hers. No common sense. They'll kill her most likely," Snape predicted gravely, but he seemed genuinely surprised to hear their name.

"I would prefer that didn't happen, and to ensure that I need your help." Now that he could be a little more certain of Snape again Malfoy felt more comfortable.

Snape pulled his hood back slightly and peered at his former student intently. "What are you suggesting?"

"If I tell you something in confidence and make you swear an oath, an Unbreakable Oath as you did to my mother, will you betray me?"

Intrigued, and remembering his promise to Narcissa to keep her son safe, he wondered what help he would need. What secret could he be carrying with him now? "I will give you my word, but that is all I can do. You have no wand Mr. Malfoy therefore I cannot swear an Unbreakable Oath, but I have always honored anything told to me in secret."

Malfoy hesitated, unsure as to whether or not the professor could be trusted. Yet, he had saved him in the tower, and it would seem now continued to monitor him for his mother. Taking a deep breath he decided to have faith in the man before him, as there was no one else, except Hermione at the moment, which he could. "Over a year ago, before my execution was supposed to take place Hermione and I made a bargain. Now, the reasons for it don't matter, but to sum up we were married."

Draco paused, waiting for the professor to offer his disapproval, or surprise. Snape said nothing, but his eyes darkened, and he looked haunted not angry. "Mr. Malfoy, that is interesting news."

"Why I need your help is that I want you to use my mother's connection in the Ministry to stop Longbottom from drawing up any divorce papers. I plan on remaining married and Hermione needs a bit more convincing."

"If you're keeping her to get back at Potter or Weasley you're only going to make yourself miserable in the end," Snape snapped at him,suddenly, his usually aloof demeanor diminished.

"My reasons for, keeping her, as you put it aren't any of your business," Malfoy snarled back knowing that Snape would not congratulate him but he hadn't expected that reaction.

"Revenge will destroy you. I understand you feel the need for retribution. The plan went all wrong that night and I know that, but destroying Potter, and using Granger to do it, won't change anything." Snape wasn't able to see Malfoy before him any longer. He was staring back at Lucius ,as though it were yesterday. _"Of course I'm keeping her. I'll keep her for the sheer reason it will drive you mad knowing she's in my bed every night. Knowing you'll be thinking of her, wanting her."_

"Let's not relive the night in the tower," Malfoy whispered wearily. "Potter, Weasley, neither one has anything to do with my wanting her. If I wanted revenge I'd have a much more imaginative plan. Do I have your word you will say nothing and help me?"

Snape tried to discern if the young man before him was lying. He didn't mask his surprise when he saw the sincerity in his eyes and heard it in his voice. "Gods and Merlin help us all you actually care about her."

Malfoy stiffened and his face fell into a fierce frown. "I didn't ask for any opinions, I asked if you would help me and keep my secret."

"Yes, for now. You can't expect it to stay secret for long. Percy Weasley is determined to solve this crime for the Du Mariers so he will look favorable in the next election. If he starts digging too far into Granger's past he'll find out and I'm not sure it would be in her favor. As for stopping whatever papers that Longbottom boy is trying to obtain, that won't be difficult." Snape felt a little better knowing that Malfoy possibly might be headed for a different fate than his father. Choosing to stay married to a Muggle-born wasn't a promising future, but what if it was in a confusing way? That was their affair and he didn't like to have to imagine them in a relationship. Thinking on it though, with Granger's over confident intellect and Malfoy's conceited ways, they were probably suited.

"Thank you. If you betray me and it results in anything harming Hermione there will be consequences. Your loyalty to my mother won't matter to me," Malfoy warned him menacingly.

"Truly?" Snape asked, unexpectedly realizing how deep Malfoy's feelings ran. "I'll have to remember that," he remarked with annoyance. "Anything else?"  
"Is my mother all right? Does she need anything?"

"She's as fine as can be expected. She actually sent me with this," Snape said, pulling a pouch from his cloak.

It clinked and Malfoy knew it was filled with coins. "Money? What is this for?"

"It was to buy your freedom, but considering what you just told me that might not be exactly what you want to do at the moment. Just take it," Snape barked, shoving the pouch into the other man's hands.

"Tell her," Malfoy started to say, but stopped not finding the right words. "Never mind. Tell her thank you, but I would prefer you not mention my marriage to her. I'll explain when I'm ready."

Snape disappeared down the alley and out of sight, and Malfoy tucked the pouch under his arm, wondering if he had made a mistake. Maybe he shouldn't have told Snape, but he had and he couldn't take it back now. Slipping inside he was too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice another figure slink from the shadows. Grinning with malicious satisfaction the man nodded to himself, and after a look up to what he assumed was Hermione's window, he Disapparated with a crackling pop in the air.


	14. A Subtle Victory

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_This chapter has sexual content in it so you are warned. It is very tame really and I have edited it a lot. For those who follow my stories at the other fanfiction site(you can't type the name here for some reason) you know where to find the unedited version._

_Thank you all so much for the response to this story. I really to appreciate it and the comments are overwhelming. They are helpful and I can't thank all of the reviewers enough. I just hope I don't let you guys down._

Chapter 14

A Subtle Victory

"Then, Percy ordered everyone to go through the entire file from almost the first generation of Du Mariers." Ron Weasley took a quick sip of his drink before swallowing another bite of potato. "We thought he was trying to prove how devious and dodgy they really were, but instead he only kept the parts of the file that expounded on their few and far between good deeds. Sure, they donate more money than any Wizarding family alive, but that doesn't give them free reign to make everyone miserable when they don't get their own way."

"It's getting out of hand," Harry agreed, wiping his hands with his napkin as he pushed his plate forward. "Even for Percy he's being overly thorough."

"He's being a regular arse," Ginny grumbled, reaching out to take Hermione's hand across the table. "Mum told me he tried to pretend and be interested in you too. Something about he took you to the opera, and I have to say that underhanded little sodding…"

"Ginny, it's all right," Hermione giggled, but agreed with her friend's description of her brother. "I don't think he was pretending at first, but winning the favor of a wealthy and powerful family is much more important. Really, it's not a big deal. I just want it all to be over."

"Mione' maybe this is a sign you ought to just drop this whole elf thing," Harry broke in then with concern. "You've got the shop, and I don't think the Ministry's going to be able and keep it closed for much longer without any evidence. Then you've got those spells you're working on, and if that isn't enough, I'm sure you would always be welcome back at Hogwarts or another Wizarding school."

"We've been through this," Hermione sighed with mild annoyance. "I can't just give up now. This is exactly what they want and I won't give it to them. They've gotten what ever they've asked for or bullied people into giving them for as long as anyone can remember. I won't have them thinking they can get away with anything else."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron silently knowing to let their trip to Romania remain secret. At least he wouldn't tell Harry while they were in public, but he needed to tell him soon. Then, there was the conversation that he had had with his brothers Fred and George, which was more than curiously, but that he would get back to later. "Well, I have to be in early tomorrow. Percy's determined to conduct another search around the city. Thinks the elf might be hiding on the streets somewhere." Ron moved to stand up and motioned for the waiter over in the corner that they were ready to leave.

The remaining three stood as well, and Ron took the bill, glaring at his sister again. "I know you thought you needed that extra piece of pie, but really since you're making Hermione and I pay for this you could've remembered to hold it down a bit."

"I'm the newlywed and your baby sister Ronald," she smiled sweetly while Harry just shook his head. "My husband and I deserved a dinner with our friends."

Hermione reluctantly said goodnight, and after paying for her part of the bill started back home. She had missed the old days more than she realized, having had her friends to herself for a good three hours. Those days were over, and they each lead their own lives now.

Ron's visits had diminished after he took his job with the Ministry, and Harry and Ginny had been away for so long they had developed a language of their own. They were so much more at ease with one another and seemed oblivious most of the time of anyone else. Everyone was settling in it seemed and Hermione was still dangling trying to find her way.

Nothing was proceeding as Hermione had planned. She had worked it all out before she had graduated. She would steadily work toward making her society a success and soon she would have numerous contributors and benefactors. Except, not everyone saw the cause the same way that she did, no one anymore, really. Even Harry and Ron were beginning to dissuade her when before they had encouraged her in whatever endeavor she pursued. Then again, the hobby had turned hazardous. To be honest, if Malfoy himself was somewhat concerned, well maybe she was only being stubborn and it was too dangerous to continue.

Sighing as she unlocked the door and stepped inside her shop Hermione was surprised to see how dark everything was. It was only a little after nine o'clock and she knew Malfoy didn't sleep until well past midnight. On nights she couldn't sleep herself she heard him below in the cellar sometimes.

Prison had changed him Hermione realized, while turning to lock and charm the door behind her. Malfoy was more cynical about life in general, but who wasn't after the war. Then there was the drastic change that she still was not sure of. He was pleasant to her sometimes, even kind and considerate. It at first was unbelievable and confusing, now maybe she was starting to understand.

He had said she was all he had had on the outside world while in prison and thinking about it that probably explained his altered attitude towards her. Hermione didn't want to think about how he had survived in Azkaban, knowing only the stories of what happened inside the fortress from Harry's godfather Sirius. The wails of the Dementors themselves were enough to drive someone mad.

Shrugging out of her robes Hermione slung them over her arm and decided to go on upstairs. Reading had always soothed her before, but she stopped in mid step frowning. She didn't want to go up to bed and read away her problems. For years she had being doing that and it hadn't solved anything yet and it wasn't going to start helping now.

Continuing on through to the back she looked up the stairs toward her apartment door. Another night alone in her bedroom didn't sound appealing when she was on the verge admitting defeat where her dreams were concerned. The society was useless now and her shop would only be a mediocre accomplishment at best.

The path her thoughts were taking wasn't a healthy one, but they were logical. The new year was only a little over two months away and that should be ample time to judge whether or not it was a wise business decision. If things went fairly smoothly there might be a way to admit to their marriage without too much trouble. Malfoy would get his inheritance, and his freedom like he wanted, and she could have free reign to devote time to charities and other foundations. She knew he had been a little desperate to get her to quit the elvish society when he actually offered to let her hand his money over to a Muggle children's hospital.

The cellar door was opened, but Hermione didn't have the peace of mind to go down there this late in the evening. She thought about calling him up to discuss the arrangement further, and to determine if he was actually serious. Before she conceded to taking his offer into consideration she needed to judge one more time if he was sincere. Biting her lip, and taking a deep breath Hermione leaned her head barely in the door. "Malfoy, are you down there?"

Silence followed her question and Hermione wondered if he might have gone to sleep after all. It was probably for the best anyway. The impulse to discuss the idea with him would pass after a good night's sleep.

She was almost thinking about sharing her decision to withdraw from her society with Malfoy, so that was going to be hard enough. Though she didn't think he would verbally express any triumph he was probably going to repeatedly inform her that she should have abandoned the cause long ago. Shutting the cellar door Hermione didn't think to lock it from the outside as she always did. There wasn't a need to anymore. They had an understanding, and they had their boundaries.

Except in your dreams, Hermione amended mentally to herself, climbing the stairs to her flat. The one the previous evening hadn't been as clear and had not lasted nearly long enough. It was like a guilty pleasure really, going to sleep and knowing the delicious temptations awaiting her in her slumber. That elusive release was always missing however and that had been one of her reasons for thinking about the offer Malfoy proposed.

She was back to considering it again Hermionee realized with some frustration, and slipped into her flat, throwing her robe over the back of her sofa. Strangely, she wasn't surprised when she found Malfoy sitting at her desk reading over some of her journals. If it had been one of her private diaries she would have hexed his eyes for trespassing into her private thoughts, but she suddenly wanted to know his honest opinion.

"I always thought that the group of Gryffindors you clung to so desperately was rather dull. Barely even nine and they're already tucking themselves in bed?" Malfoy commented, not taking his eyes off of a thick manuscript she had been putting together since her last year in school.

"They have their own lives and things to do. Ron's got an early morning at the Ministry and Harry and Ginny are newlyweds," Hermione said simply, bending down to sift through a stack of bills on the coffee table. So far none of them were overdue, but that would change she was sure if the Ministry didn't allow her to open the shop again soon.

"So Potter's an old married man and his wife's assigned him his bedtime? That's

bound to be boring."

"You're a married man and you're sitting reading essays on Transfiguration and counter spells. How exciting is your life right now?" Hermione teased tossing the bills aside again. That was something else that needed to be factored in she supposed, if she decided to give their marriage a trial basis.

Hermione suddenly bit her tongue at what she had just admitted to. Glancing up she hoped Malfoy hadn't heard her, but that was unlikely. Maybe he would ignore the offhanded remark and keep reading. He had gone very still and was staring at her strangely. "Did you get something to eat yourself? I guess I should feel guilty about going out and leaving you here alone," she said hastily, kicking her shoes off into the corner and grabbing her robe to take it to her bedroom.

"Yes, I found something to eat. You've decided haven't you?" he asked, a strange tone in his voice.

"Decided what?" This wasn't how Hermione had meant to broach the topic and so acting as though she wasn't aware of what he was talking about was the best option.

"You know damn well what," Draco snapped, but instantly recovered, and softened the edge to his voice. "The agreement. You've realized that staying married is to your advantage."

"I'm merely considering giving you until the New Year like we discussed," Hermione allowed impatiently, feeling very uncomfortable and shy where the conversation was heading. She had never been sure of herself where men were concerned, and she was even more at a loss as to handle her situation with her husband.

"Considering?" Draco asked, and she heard him push the chair away from the desk and stand. "No, I think you've decided and you've made the right choice."

"Why do you always have to turn my words into something else," she asked, with a hint of a sigh in her voice.

"Because for some reason you can't admit truthfully to what you're thinking or feeling," he shrugged, but kept approaching, her knowing that if she would just say the words it could all be over. "I've never noticed you having any problem putting Potter or Weasel in their place or letting them know how you felt. Actually, you used to be able to make it pretty obvious how much you hated me. Lately, you've been confused though haven't you?"

Hermione kept her back to him not wanting to delve into her own feelings just yet. "I don't hate you Malfoy. You were an evil annoying bastard in school, and I'm not sure about what happened in the tower that night with Dumbledore. Still, like I told you when we…" she faltered not bringing herself to say the actual words, "that night I told you I didn't think you were a cold blooded murderer."

"Do you want to know what happened in the tower?" he asked quietly, so that she turned to him then. "You know Potter's version and I'll give the prat this, it didn't look to be in my favor."

"I'm listening," Hermione encouraged, and walked to seat herself on her small sofa.

He studied her for a second and realized that right now was the perfect opportunity to share some of what took place that night. It wasn't his entire fault. Really, hardly any of it, but he wasn't innocent either. "All right where do you want me to begin?"

She waited until he was sitting next to her and watched him run his palms down his thighs in a nervous gesture. "Did you really let the Death Eaters in or did Snape force you to?"

"That I did on my own. Snape actually isn't the villain here either. My father took me with him one night for a meeting with the Dark Lord. When Voldemort asked you a question you answered him, and you told him what he wanted to hear. Basically, before the night was over I had agreed to help the Death Eaters overrun our school or face punishment. If I failed he would kill my mother while I watched."

"It wasn't until later in the year that Voldemort ordered me to kill Dumbledore. By this time I knew the plan was out of hand. I went to Snape who already had vowed to my mother that he would help me and make certain I carried out my orders. She was trying to protect me and so was the professor." Malfoy stopped then to gauge Hermione's reaction before continuing. She wasn't looking at him in disgust or anger just concentrating on his words intently. Always inquisitive and eager to give anyone a chance to explain themselves he thought, and almost smiled at the notion.

"Snape killed Dumbledore because you couldn't? That's what Harry said anyways," Hermione whispered when it seemed that he wasn't going to finish his story

"In a round about way maybe that's how it was, but truthfully Dumbledore knew the attack was coming. He, like Snape and myself, didn't know when. If Dumbledore had been at the castle I would have gone to warn him before opening the school to the wrath of the Death Eaters. Instead, I received the message a few hours before Dumbledore and Potter were supposed to return." Then everything had gone wrong from that point. Dumbledore was dead, Snape and himself considered murderers, and Hogwarts left in a shambles, along with the Ministry's reputation for keeping its citizens safe.

"Why didn't you warn McGonagall?" Hermione asked, trying to be fair and listen, but remembering all of the death and destruction. She herself had been hurt in the attack and it wasn't something she was willing to easily forget.

"She didn't know about the plan, and by the time I had appeased the band of Death Eaters that were on their way inside the school it was too late. Everything happened so fast and then at the last second I was afraid I was actually going to have to kill Dumbledore. Except, we had enchanted a wand so though I might have had to actually use the words the Killing Curse wouldn't affect him." Potter had been watching the entire exchange between Dumbledore and Snape, Draco remembered and he had wanted to scream at the scar headed bastard to send out a shield around the old man.

"Why did Snape intercede then? Why did he still call out the curse?" Tears were starting to form in the corners of Hermione's eyes. It hurt even years later to remember the events of that day. Even though Draco's situation was dire it seemed, facing his death and his own mother's as well, many others had died as a result of his choices.

"Voldemort himself was watching, he was seeing through Snape's eyes. He had enchanted him with the Curse of the Seer. Though he had tried to honor his vow to Dumbledore and the Ministry, to remain true to the fight against the Darkness, he had to honor his Unbreakable Vow to my mother first."

"I couldn't have killed him Hermione and I didn't want to see the school invaded either. Except, you've never been present for a punishment issued by Voldemort himself. It isn't pleasant. However, I'm not going to lie and say that I believed what Dumbledore was teaching either. By the time the school was besieged, frankly I didn't care if Voldemort, Potter, and Dumbledore killed one another and ended all of the conflict," he finished the last sentence in a soft disgusted tone. "I'm not noble and I didn't have any loyalty to the cause that Potter and Dumbledore touted, but I didn't want to end up locked away in Azkaban like my father."

"If this is true, why didn't you tell the Ministry this? Why didn't you try and prove your innocence and come back to school?"

"Dumbledore, Snape and myself were the only ones who knew of our plan to fake Dumbledore's death. The Ministry wasn't interested in what I had to say and they had Crabbe and Goyle's testimony that I had murdered Muggles. It was open and shut, no need for Veritaserum or Legilimancy, or so I was told," he drawled, remembering how he had once begged them to administer the potion, a Malfoy had begged. Every plea had fallen on deaf ears, the deaf ears of one Percy Weasley.

"I don't know what to say," Hermione sniffed, but she wasn't able to hold the tears back. What he had said wasn't very different from Harry's version, but told from a different perspective. The war had been over for only a short time and it was still like a raw wound to speak about it. Reliving that day, remembering Dumbledore's funeral, watching students trudge back diligently to a castle that had been their home and was reduced to parts of rubble and ash in places was still too agonizing.

"Do you believe what I'm telling you?" For some reason in that moment Draco would have given anything to hear her say yes. Everyone had abandoned him, and now he would die before admitting it out loud, but he needed her acceptance. If there wasn't ever anything else she would believe about him, she at least had to know about this, he was telling the truth.

"I want to," Hermione said truthfully, a feeling of sorrow for his own situation washing over her. Malfoy had been as lost and alone as the rest of them in those days she realized. If he hadn't been so stubborn and hateful someone, other than Snape, might have noticed. Harry had known something wasn't right, but as Malfoy was never forthcoming with his feelings, he had accounted it as Malfoy's odd behavior in general. "You should have told someone. You should have let someone help you sooner."

Sighing Malfoy realized how foolish it was to expect her to simply discount Potter and believe him. Even if he was her husband Potter and Weasley meant more to her than he ever could. "Forget it. I'm surprised you listened as long as you did."

"Wait, Malfoy," she stammered, reaching out for him when he bounded to his feet. Then that was it she realized. No one had listened to him before, and now she had as much as admitted that wasn't listening either.

Coming to her feet she shuffled after him and caught his hand before he could get to the door. "Draco, I said wait," Hermione snapped, knowing it would be the only tone that he would heed.

He whirled to face her and for the first time she saw something vulnerable in his gaze. Pain, and what might have been rejection were present in his light eyes and she suddenly allowed herself to look at the situation as a whole. Malfoy was obviously a powerful wizard, but he couldn't have easily fought off the affects of Veritaserum and Legilimancy together. He obviously had been willing, and the Ministry had denied him those tools to help him prove his innocence.

Hermione knew that at times she let herself believe only the best in people, but this was Malfoy, and she knew him better than most in her circle of friends. Know your enemy. That was what he had been day in and day out insulting her, bullying her, and making her classes miserable. "You are telling the truth aren't you?"

Standing so still he was almost not breathing Draco was sure he hadn't heard her correctly. She kept staring back at him, and he felt the same stab of anger at the fact Hermione might be pitying him again. Then, he looked closer, and it was compassion and remorse. Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, and he couldn't tell if they were from the memories he surely had drawn to the surface, or for him.

"Someone should have seen something. Harry knew something was wrong and he should have made more of an effort to see what it was. It wasn't fair. We were all children and everyone expected us to be brave and never hesitate," Hermione whispered, shaking her head sadly.

This wasn't exactly the reaction Draco had hoped for. He was elated that she believed him. For once he'd managed to find a way to edge past her adoration for Potter and Weasel and earn her trust. Although, she was crying and she didn't do that in front of him. At first he had liked it that way, and now it was as if she was letting him see her for the first time.

"What's done is done. It's over and there's no use crying about it now," he said gruffly not sure how to comfort her. He didn't know how to be gentle and soothing. His mother had never really cried in front of him and other women were always so red faced and sniveling when they did he steered clear of them.

Swallowing hard Hermione simply let her emotions overtake her. Coming forward she stepped upward on her toes and put her arms around his neck embracing him. "I'm sorry."

That stunned him even more and Draco had to tell himself mentally to wrap his arms around her to pull her to him. What the hell was she sorry for? His father had gotten too hungry for power and given himself in service to Voldemort. His mother had meekly went along with whatever grand schemes his father devised, and he himself had plainly nursed his hatred for Muggles and Muggle-Born wizards without much encouragement. In a way, everyone was to blame for his situation except her. "For what? You didn't do anything," he murmured, not sure how to proceed.

Was this what it was like to have another person care what happened to you, if you were hurt or in pain? It was an odd feeling, but enjoyable. Instead of thinking he had bested Potter by stealing some of Hermione's affections he simply let himself take pleasure in her attitude toward him.

"No, but I can be sorry for what's happened can't I?" she whispered back, and her breath fell against his neck in a soft caress.

Hermione would save the world or die trying probably, Draco thought dryly, but in that moment he wasn't interested in letting her save anyone. Not even him. She'd done far too much of that and it was time for her to let herself be happy. "That was years ago. Besides, if I hadn't been in prison you wouldn't have gotten your inheritance. Who else would have been mad enough to marry you?"

She pulled away, eyes wide ready to snap at him, but he was grinning at her. "We've just discussed a monumental moment in both of our lives, and you're trying to make jokes and tease me?"

"You're not crying anymore are you?" he asked, pleased that he had managed to extricate himself from the terrifying position of consoling her. What had frightened Draco the most was the urge to sweep her up and rock her like a child, talking softly, and holding her tight. That was something that would have brought too many emotions to the surface and force him to consider things that he wasn't ready to think about yet.

"Women cry Malfoy, get used to it. You're the one who wants to stay married," Hermione sighed, realizing the moment was over and he had replaced his vulnerability with biting humor. She had liked seeing him when he was willing to be open and show that inside he had the same fears and doubts as the rest of the world.

"So do you, want to stay married that is," he said feeling a profound loss as Hermione slipped away. She seemed upset about something, and that had been an excessively tame joke really.

"We'll discuss it in the morning. I think we've relived the past enough this evening don't you?" Maybe if she fell asleep she'd have a dream about him, the Malfoy who wasn't afraid to express with actions that he wanted her. That would be comforting.

Malfoy didn't want to discuss it in the morning. He didn't want her to go, put herself to bed alone, and give him an unspoken order to retreat to the cellar by closing the door in his face. "There isn't anything else to discuss. You made your decision and I don't think you want me to leave tonight anymore than I do."

Hermione faltered on her way toward her bedroom at the outright assertion that he was refusing to go downstairs. Straightening her back she forced herself not to turn and face him. "Good night, Malfoy. We'll discuss this in the morning."

"All right, first thing when we wake up I'll turn over and you can tell me all the reasons why you want to stay married to me. Hopefully, after tonight they'll be a few more to add to your list." Not tonight. Draco wasn't going to walk away and lie alone in that cellar. Hermione was his wife. She wanted to give him a fair chance to prove they should make their marriage work. He was going to take whatever opportunities she was offering.

"I didn't make a list," she snipped at him impatiently, and made the mistake of forgetting to ignore him completely. When Hermione turned around he was already standing in front of her and did not wait for her consent to go about his objective.

"Of course you didn't. The reasons to stay with me would have been too many to write down. You would have ran out of parchment," he arrogantly teased her again. If she was arguing with him using words and focusing on clever retorts she wouldn't be as likely to try and resist what he had in mind until it was too late.

"I'm afraid the reasons to divorce you outweigh the reasons to stay with you," Hermione said, only halfway paying attention to what Malfoy was doing. He was too conceited, so what had possessed her to consider any of this.

Pleased when he had managed to pull her hair out of the loose knot at the back of her neck Draco kept his eyes on hers, smirking at her last remark. "That's no way to talk to the man who helped you get all of that money now is it? You never told me why you had to get married? Why did the will have that particular stipulation?"

Backing up while he kept asking her questions Hermione sighed with aggravation. "My mother had an aunt, and I think Neville told you that part. Aunt June was a little eccentric. She never got married and she thought I should share the money with someone. I don't know she was barking really, but I thought I needed the money. Look at where that got me. The first time I got greedy I ended up with a secret that's grown too big to keep, a convict for a husband, and the reasons for getting the money are useless now."

"What reasons are useless now?" Draco asked, closing the bedroom door behind them with the heel of his shoe. In the back of him mind he was hoping she'd say she was through with that elf society of hers S.P.E.W. He'd always thought the name itself was something a Muggle threw up.

"Well you and everyone else will be thrilled to know that I'm giving up on the society. I'm going to be boring, and research, and sit in my shop hoping it reopens." He was really getting too much information out of her tonight, and Hermione didn't like the feeling of giving him anymore of the control as far as their situation was concerned.

"You won't be boring if you decide to put your well being before someone else's for once in your life. Besides being married to a Malfoy is never boring. Think of how much fun you can have decorating the manor or throwing parties."

Draco doubted Hermione would jump at the chance to decorate everything or hold lavish celebrations. She wasn't one to flaunt anything, but it would do her good to let herself go every once in awhile. She'd been so proper and responsible for so long. Though he'd appreciated that it helped her maintain a certain amount of tempting innocence, it was time she allowed herself to be a woman, not the person everyone, namely Potter and Weasely, turned to for guidance and advice.

"We're taking this a day at a time. I don't want to redecorate your home and I wouldn't know anything about throwing a party for wealthy Pureblooded families," she frowned at him actually turning when he nodded for her to do so. Hermione was so busy debating every single comment he made that she wasn't paying attention to his true intentions.

"You belong to a wealthy Pureblood family now so you'd better learn," Hermione stated unzipping the light evening dress at the back. "And for Merlin's sake don't ask me if there's a book about it. I'll teach you everything you need to know to act like a wife in public, and in private."

"I'm sure there is a book somewhere and how would you know how a wife should act?" She shrugged her shoulders letting the material slide down a bit and that's when her realization came. Quickly Hermione grabbed the garment, and kept it from sliding down any farther. "What, Malfoy what are you doing? I thought we were going to talk about this agreement in the morning?"

"Oh we can discuss it in the morning, but right now I think you should practice on being a wife in private." She was becoming aware of herself again, but that wasn't going to be a problem.

"I think you should go back down stairs," Hermione whispered and shuddered when Dracp pushed her hair to one side. He then started kissing her shoulder before working his way up to her neck and finally her ear. Then he slowly slid his tongue around the lobe until she leaned back against him and tilted her head to the side.

"Not tonight," he breathed against her skin. "You wouldn't have unconsciously let me follow you in here if you didn't want this to happen."

"We shouldn't it's too soon," she bit her lip on a soft moan that would have escaped her just then. His hands had come around and for some reason her grip on her dress faltered. She let him drop the garment to the floor and caress her breasts through the thin silk of her bra.

"I disagree, I think it's been too long since the last time, that night in the carriage." Hermione had been instinctively arching herself and inadvertently rubbing her backside against his groin until Draco was growing achingly hard with wanting her. A little more hastily than he had intended he unhooked the flimsy undergarment and freed her breasts, lightly biting her shoulder as he traced his fingers over her nipples softly. They hardened quickly without much coaxing.

"That really wasn't, I mean…" Hermione couldn't form a sentence now, and actually it had been her arguing with him that had led them to where they were now.

"Not for you no, but this will be," he promised starting to trail feathery kisses down her spine while his hands kept roaming over her skin. Skimming the sensitive flesh of her belly near her navel Draco smiled as she jumped and cried out quietly, before he hooked around her hips and began to slide her underwear down her thighs. When they reached her knees they fell without a sound to the floor. It surprised him when Hermione freely stepped from them herself and turned to face him.

Hermione had known how it would be if Draco ever approached her like this in reality, outside her dreams. Her dreams had made her too susceptible to him and she would be lying if she said that it wasn't delightful to see him kneeling before her, wanting her. What surprised her the most was the genuine look of longing and affection there in his gaze. She had always thought herself beneath him in some way, even though she told herself she ignored his prejudiced insults.

Tomorrow she might regret it, but tonight, with the moon shining into her room and the man before her touching her so gently and purposefully, Hermione didn't care. "Why did you bring up that night? I didn't think you wanted to remember it, or that you enjoyed it at all."

Draco heard her question, but it took a moment to respond. This wasn't exactly how he had pictured having her again when he had lain awake in prison. Hermione had always been spread out, arms beckoning him, hair splayed over green silk encased pillows and sheets. Location didn't matter, and even though it was a three-room apartment above a second hand shop she was there, standing before him. Sweeping his gaze down her body, from her soft wavy hair that framed her beautifully flushed face, to her rounded breasts, flat belly, and curving hips, he was half afraid she was another dream. "I enjoyed it too much," he admitted before he could think of a better answer. Somehow the truth here wasn't such a bad thing. It really probably helped his position.

Slowly Draco stood gliding his fingers up her thighs and again over her stomach and breasts. Threading his fingers through her hair he drew himself up to his full height to tower over her. "Later, when I found out I was pardoned I used to think of what I would do if I was released. I also wondered what would've happened if I'd escaped that night."

For some reason Hermione felt the need to push aside her timidity. Gingerly she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his pants and unbuttoned it quickly, sure she would lose her nerve if she didn't make haste. "What would you have done if you had?"

Releasing her only long enough to slip the shirt from his shoulders and toss it aside Draco cupped her face in his hands. "I would have come back for you," he whispered taking her mouth in a kiss that wasn't as gentle as she imagined it would have been but more gratifying and arousing.

In his haste and impatience Hermione felt his teeth grazing her bottom lip as he slanted his mouth over hers. It was as if Draco couldn't satisfy himself taking possession of her lips brutally again and again until she tasted blood. This time it wasn't intended as a punishment, as their parting kiss had been in the carriage. Simply, it seemed he was devouring her and she was hungrily accepting his passionate pursuit.

Without persuasion Hermione opened her mouth for him wondering if her dreams had done justice to what reality could offer. She thought then she might grow dizzy when his tongue boldly stroked with her own. She couldn't breathe, but the sensation added to the heavy mist of desire enveloping her.

Her shyness was waning with each second and Hermione reached between them to help him remove his pants. There was no going back tonight, and Draco wasn't being cruel or spiteful. He hadn't been for many weeks. Also there was nothing wrong with what she was doing at all. He was her husband. She was slowly starting to accept the fact and it wasn't as distasteful as she first believed.

Afraid she would get too nervous Draco finished the job for her, and pulled away briefly to mutter a spell that had his shoes removed and lying in the corner. He wasn't about to let Hermione go long enough to let her think of any reasons why she shouldn't be doing what her heart wanted not and not what her mind told her was proper. Unlacing the ugly work boots would have taken too much time. His mouth readily found hers again and he was only slightly aware of her small hand with her palm flat running down his chest and lightly over his stomach. Draco jerked her hand back and pushed her roughly onto the bed. In a rush he was covering her body with his own, parting her thighs with his knee.

As before, the moment he joined their bodies, instinct told Hermione to meet each thrust with her hips rising and falling, finding the rhythm he set without difficulty. Hermione's nails were now digging into his back no longer caressing, and then she was twisting her fingers in his hair. Pulling on the back of his head she tried to ease Draco down so she could feel his mouth on hers.

He gazed back at her, his features drawn into a tense determination watching her discover pleasure. Draco decided without a doubt that no one except him would ever know her like this. Hermione was more beautiful than she realized. He'd kill anyone who tried to discover how magnificent she was uninhibited and free.

Frantically Hermione also knew she was about to find a release to the almost painful fire and raw need spiraling within her. "Please," she pleaded, craving the feel of his lips again.

However in the next second Draco drove himself inside of her so deeply her body took on a will of its own. Hermione reached up and over the crest of her longing, letting herself fly apart as a wave of rapture caught her in its torrent. It carried her higher, finally letting her rest again safely in the arms of her husband, but not until she had cried out, shamelessly clutching his shoulders and arching her hips to maintain her blissful state.

As Hermione clenched and propelled her body upward to meet his fury Draco reached his own climax, his deep rumbling groan mingling with her fading cry of wonder and satisfaction. Burying his face along side her neck and feeling her heart thudding against his chest, the smell of gardenias and lemons in her hair evoked more tender feelings. Raising himself up on his elbows Draco watched her struggle to regain her breath as much as he was trying to steady his own.

When Hermione didn't say anything for a long while he frowned and stroked her cheek once. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you? You were more than ready," Draco's hand froze above her cheek as tears slid from her eyes she had tightly shut.

Not answering him Hermione buried her face into his shoulder alarming him that something was terribly wrong. She hadn't said anything about not being comfortable. She was raking his back, well clawing at him actually, so she hadn't given any indication she wanted him to stop. If she was having regrets he hadn't expected those until she woke up the next morning. She seemed to have trouble in the light of day admitting to her desires for some reason. "Hermione," Draco said, tentatively. This wasn't how he wanted to end the night, with her sobbing and miserable.

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione murmured, but it was muffled against his skin. "It was too perfect."

Sighing with relief Draco didn't hesitate to give in to his urge to hold her this time when her tears came. Something had changed in those last few moments and he didn't want to examine it too closely yet. Right now he was content, that after a year of waiting, wanting, and thinking to never have her again Hermione was here.

Rolling to his side Draco kept her against him lightly running his fingers in a caress meant to soothe not arouse over her thigh. Hermione was already curling up against him, pressing herself next to his body where she fit perfectly and would always belong. Dropping a gentle kiss on her forehead he kept whispering reassurances until her breathing grew steady and even. Watching the rise and fall of her chest he knew she was asleep and pulled a blanket around them both securely.

Even though Draco was more confused as to where he stood and what he wanted from her, he was more satisfied than he had been for years. It was humbling really to know how Hermione had opened herself to him without restraint, when years earlier he had tormented her, and though it made him sick to remember it, he had enjoyed it. He had made her miserable, he had been too weak to defy his father outright or ask for help when he needed it, and he had selfishly vowed to keep her simply to maintain his family's traditions and reputation.

Running a finger over Hermione's cheek and down to her jaw idly Draco saw her smile in her sleep, and his heart actually leapt in his chest. Maybe he could figure out what it felt like. Maybe he already knew, but he didn't know how to show it or express it with words. Well, Draco wasn't still so selfish and spoiled that he didn't want her to admit to it openly first. Then again, did Hermione feel that way or was her display tonight simply because he had given her pleasure?

This was why he had never complicated his life with only a single woman, and let them weave their emotions and romantic ideas into his head. Draco wasn't sure of himself where this subject was concerned, but arrogantly he was going to make certain she felt the same way. Hermione wasn't a girl who displayed her emotions for anyone and she was so open and expressive tonight. It was making him hard again just remembering her first tiny whimpers and mewling cries.

A confident smirk graced his features then, and Draco nestled closer to his wife. A year ago he had thought to himself that the term wife wouldn't have been so bad as long as it had been anyone but Granger. Curling an arm around her possessively he realized his statement should have been corrected. Now, no one but Hermione would do.


	15. Harry's Offer

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_Truly, thank you all for the great reviews especially these last few chapters. They mean so much and I'm so thrilled you are all enjoying this story. _

Chapter 15

Harry's Offer

He hadn't thought about his father in any real sense for months, but that night when he had finally drifted to sleep the malevolent man came to him in his dreams. Since Draco was a child he hadn't had nightmares. Never allowing himself the luxury of emotions even in his sleep, he had managed to stay aloof and unfeeling. Now, he felt things he didn't understand and suddenly couldn't control. That was probably why Lucius Malfoy figured prominently into the night terror.

Coming awake abruptly, Draco saw the curtains were now pulled back, and the first rays of light were starting to peek over the horizon. The morning was still young and taking a moment to realize where he was he smiled with satisfaction turning to reach out for Hermione, but the other side of the bed was empty. Frowning he let his hands glide over the sheets where she had lain the night before, next to him, discovering they were still warm.

For just a brief moment Draco panicked, his dream still fresh in his mind. Then, he heard the sound of a bathtub filling with water, and released a heavy sigh of relief. He was being ridiculous thinking that a nightmare was real, but it had seemed that way not too long ago.

Throwing back the blankets Draco came out of bed and wondered if she was trying to sneak away and bathe before he could catch her. Hermione was probably going to be embarrassed about the night before, try and be overly modest. Though her shyness was alluring he wanted her comfortable with him in every aspect. Striding into the bathroom when he found the door unlocked, he immediately caught a hint of the gardenia fragrance she always used.

"Who's there?" Hermione asked suddenly, jumping in the bathtub causing the water to splash and spill a little over the side.

"Who else, unless you were expecting someone other than your husband," he teased crouching down beside the bathtub.

She was already blushing and sunk down farther into the water. That defense wasn't worth the effort really, but it was all Hermione had at the moment. "You startled me. You should have knocked or something."

"Just to have you tell me I couldn't come in, or to go away?" Draco innocently asked, reaching out to wind a stray curl around his finger. Hermione had piled the mass of ringlets atop her head again, and he preferred it when she let her hair fall past her shoulders and down her back.

"I am trying to take a bath," she defended her words coming out in a rush. "Give me a few minutes and I'll be out."

Hermione reached over to pull her hair out of his grasp, but Draco only caught her hand and brought it to his lips flicking his tongue on the inside of her palm. "You're not suddenly shy are you?"

Losing the battle to keep from meeting his gaze Hermione turned and without warning that familiar aching twinge came to life between her legs. The heat churning in her lower belly intensified as Draco came closer to kiss her more tenderly than she would have thought him capable. After a few moments he leaned away smiling at her his eyes brimming with obvious want and need. "So, what did you want to discuss about the arrangement again?"

Blinking many times Hermione knew she couldn't hide her erratic breathing or her trembling when he began to stroke the side of her neck, down her shoulder, and arm. "Can we talk about that when I'm done bathing?"

"Do I still have to try and convince you? Do we really need to make this so temporary, just until New Year's?" Draco drew close to her again, placing an affectionate kiss on the curve of her shoulde, wanting to see the answer in her dark eyes clouded with warmth and desire.

Her initial response was a resounding. No, she didn't need more convincing, and she wanted to reach out and never let go. However, with the start of a new day Hermione realized she had to let her logic guide her instead of her body's weakening resistance. It was so hard to deny him anything right then and simply staring back at him she didn't offer a conclusive answer. "We should discuss this more," was all she could manage to say.

Draco sighed inwardly, knowing it had been too much to hope for, but not in the least bit discouraged. Reaching out he shut off the water, and brought his hands up under her arms. "Come here."

Watching herself stand at the mere command, Hermione felt the bubbles sliding down her wet body, but would have preferred his hands roaming over her flesh instead. Blindly she let him lift her from the tub and press her to the wall at their left. "I said I'd be out in a…"

He was already drawing her breath from her in a burning kiss grinding his arousal against her smooth stomach. "I don't think I can wait that long," Draco drawled, nipping and biting at her neck as he teased her breasts with his hands.

This time things did not proceed as slowly as the previous night. Even Hermione surprised herself at how suddenly desperate she was to touch and feel him in any way, eagerly wrapping her legs around her husband's waist when he lifted her from the floor. Blindly she let the sensations take over her again and was more than breathless when they had both found fulfillment in the each other.

Vaguely Hermione felt the twinges of an ache in her back from their exertions and pounding against the wall. She unwrapped her legs and slid them to the floor, but was unable to hold herself up. Silently Draco guided her back to the tub and she sank down into the water again deciding not to over analyze why she was reluctant to let him go.

Hermione had at first thought to keep herself somewhat detached, not wanting to show Draco how much the previous night had affected her. Obviously as easily as he had drawn out each passionate response moments ago, that plan wasn't viable. It also didn't help that he seemed to know what she was thinking or feeling before she did. That was annoying, and also didn't help her to hide any emotions she might not want him to see yet.

When Hermione had casually mentioned that she wanted to marry for love Draco all but stated he didn't have feelings for her that went that deep. He had seemed very uncomfortable, and answered obscurely. It had only mildly bothered her at the time. Now taking in account her sore, but sated body, and confused, chaotic thoughts, she was coming to understand something. She no longer had to fight the unsettling attraction she had developed, having surrendered in that battle willingly. She was frightened she might grow to care more than she already did, maybe even love him, and as far as she could tell he would never be able to return the affection.

"Now you can finish," Draco said smugly, but ruined his conceited tone and stance by lightly kissing the top of her head.

Watching Draco close the door behind him Hermione slid back down, deep into the water, finding she was still shaky and unsure of her limbs. Though she was inexperienced sexually she was certain that the lingering affects from their encounter must not be normal. Obviously he was more skilled and practiced than she would have believed and she felt a stab of jealousy over that fact.

Sighing angrily with herself Hermione went about the task of scrubbing her body clean and starting her day. She was hopeless already if she was jealous of women that were no longer part of his life and shouldn't have had any bearing on hers now. Maybe there was no way to help her separate passion, caring, and attraction from love and affection, but she was diligently going to try. If she didn't she was certain she would lead herself to a broken heart.

"How you managed to survive the war I'll never know," Malfoy hissed opening the front door and casting a quick glance over his shoulder. "Potter, subtlety isn't a strong trait of yours is it?"

"Sod off Malfoy. I'm in no more of mood deal with you than you are with me, but Fred and George explained it all. Has there been anything else? Any other letters?"

"Two yesterday, but she hasn't seen them," Malfoy whispered, quietly shutting the door behind the unwelcome guest.

"Where are they?" Harry asked, pushing past his once and still adversary. "Let me see them and I'll take them to Scrimgeour and settle this…"

"So Scrimgeour can just pawn them off on Percy and Granger's back to where she started?" Malfoy asked, incredulously. "All of that talk about the Ministry's fairness and justice is a load of bollocks. Even you have to admit things are somewhat unusual when Granger, the loyal little witch who stood at your side during the war, is considered to be a criminal."

"Scrimgeour is fair and just. Just because he didn't allow your money and name to buy your freedom doesn't mean he's not upholding his position," Harry snarled back, hating the very notion that Malfoy was involved with this in any way. Fred and George had to be inhaling something that was buggering their better sense to think that Malfoy was actually being helpful.

"It isn't Scrimgeour that's the problem. Percy's trying to push Scrimgeour out and if he cann't find that damn creature for the Du Mariers then he's going to have to punish someone to appease them." Draco hated to admit it, but Fred and George were easy to talk to. They at least listened, and actually agreed to a certain degree. Potter was too thickheaded and single minded. He regretted ever getting the Weasleys involved now if they were just going to turn the entire mess over to the scar faced wonder.

"Percy's a bit of a…"

"Prick, arsehole…"

"Malfoy," Harry growled. "Percy's a bit over zealous and he does push the envelope. Oh, well he's bloody intolerable at times, but he does take his job very seriously."

"Will you be praising him when he's got Granger in a holding cell at the Ministry waiting for a trial?" This had been a mistake. Potter wouldn't look past his loyalty to the Ministry and he'd probably go to Scrimgeour now that the Weasels had told him everything.

"Gods Malfoy, you've really taken to believing that Percy's that irrational and unfair," Harry frowned, also hearing Hermione rustling about upstairs. "How long before she'll come down?"

"Soon, any minute really. Is there a reason other than the letters that you've come by?" Even knowing that he was going to be making a visit ahead of time Malfoy hadn't been prepared for all of the animosity and anger that flooded back to him. Fucking useless hero who couldn't save Dumbledore and countless others that was all he truly was.

"How did you get a reprieve? How did you manage to get your death sentence appealed?"

"You know as much as I do about it really, but that's not the issue," Malfoy reiterated. Even when his best friend's life was at stake making sure he, Malfoy the evil incarnate, was properly reprimanded was Potter's main objective.

"You never asked any questions? Never even tried to figure out why your luck suddenly changed?" Above Harry heard a door open and then close. "Shouldn't you be finding out why? I mean it just could be a misprint on some paper work and you really should be languishing among the Dementors or overdue for your execution."

Malfoy wanted grab Potter by the throat, rip the flesh open and watch him slowly bleed to death on the floor. "Or maybe someone realized that I was falsely accused in that Muggle raid and had served my time."

"Even if you didn't take part in the London attack we both know you deserve to be rotting in Azkaban for your plot against Hogwarts and Dumbledore," Harry spat back, his green eyes flashing as he warmed to the old feelings of anger and resentment.

"Did you ever think that things aren't always black and white, or as they appear to be?" Malfoy questioned, with a decidedly sharp edge to his tone. "Maybe if you'd tried to protect Dumbledore instead of fixating on fighting Snape and myself he might have survived!"

"You wanted him dead, but you were just too weak to finish the job," Harry accused, heatedly stepping forward, all intentions to be civil until Malfoy turned over the evidence he needed gone. "Snape as always cleaned up your rubbish, and now he's living as freely as you are. He may never be brought to justice and you've managed, through dishonest means no doubt, to secure your own well being."

"Can't live with the guilt Potter? Do you think you're the only one who has to live with the choices made that night?" Malfoy snarled back, getting dangerously close to actually harming the pretentious bastard.

"Your conscience is clear and you don't waste a moment on anything but yourself. The moment your term here is up you'll just return to being the spoiled, selfish, prat you've always been, and the rest of the world can bugger themselves. Gods, I think I'm just going to give you the money myself so you'll buy your freedom and leave Mione' in peace," Harry sighed, shaking his head not seeing the young woman slipping past the curtain behind them.

"Money isn't my problem Potter," Malfoy said, smirking at his rival making him wonder at the depth of those words.

"Never is for you and probably never will be, but money doesn't solve it all Malfoy. You know someday you'll remember them, the faces of the Muggles you killed, of Dumbledore as he pleaded with you to put down your wand, of Snape finishing what you started and didn't have the balls to pull off," Harry warned with a smile of satisfaction of his own.

"Harry!" Hermione snapped, rushing into the front of the shop. "Is that necessary?"  
"Mione' I was just dropping in to see how you were," Harry's cruel smile softened as he turned to greet his friend. "Ginny wanted to know if you would stop by next week at The Burrow. Her Mum's been hinting at trying to get us all under one roof for a family dinner and I don't think she's going to take no for an answer."

"Of course I'll be there. Just owl me with the day and time, but Harry don't you think it's time to let go of the past?" Hermione shouldn't have sounded so outraged. It would make Harry suspicious, but the way he thought things had played out that night wasn't quite the truth. She couldn't explain that to him either.

"Mione' what's between Malfoy and I is too deep and bitter so please don't get in the middle," Harry urged her patiently. She was always trying to soothe hurt feelings and make the peace. There was no way to forget the past with Malfoy, and she didn't need to get herself involved with something she couldn't understand. She hadn't witnessed the headmaster's death, he had. There was no way to forget that terrible night, and Malfoy's participation in the attack that had started it all.

"Harry, Malfoy's paying for his crimes, and you're living the life you always dreamed of. Now, let's just behave like the adults we're supposed to be." Hermione didn't dare look at Malfoy to see how he was handling Harry's last remark that he hadn't been allowed to respond to. After reliving the events with her the night before she was certain Harry's words were hitting a nerve and she was surprised she hadn't found them pummeling each other on the floor. Somehow no matter how old they got she doubted they would ever really outgrow the urge to resort to the old grudges that each held against the other.

"Well, I just don't feel safe with him paying for his crimes under your roof. Hermione, I'm going to give Malfoy the money he needs, and he can pay the Ministry the funds for his freedom," Harry told her, glancing sideways at Malfoy who was studying his friend oddly as though seeing her for the first time.

"Harry you really don't need to do that," she stammered finally looking up and seeing Malfoy staring at her his expression unreadable, but searing nonetheless. Would Malfoy accept the offer for the opportunity to resume his old life? Even if it was from Harry the money would relieve him of the rest of his sentence and hadn't that been one of the reasons for admitting they were married?

"Mione' I want to, and if Malfoy's too much of a…"

"Keep your fucking charity Potter," Malfoy sneered, with a low growl.

"I'm doing this for you Mione'," Harry said pointedly ignoring Malfoy. "Ron told me how Percy thought he could keep a better watch over Malfoy if he was with you, and I know you also have been miserable ever since," Harry reasoned, reaching into his pockets as though he'd produce the galleons right then and there. "I can give you this note and all you need to do is get to Gringotts and transfer the funds."

"Harry I can take care of my own affairs," Hermione said weakly, suddenly feeling a little unsure and sick. Malfoy had of course only refused the offer out of pride and pure hatred for Harry. If anyone else had offered he would have snatched the opportunity and disappeared.

"Mione' I'll go down there and do it myself if I have to, but one way or another Malfoy's leaving here. Ron should've owled me sooner so this mess could've been resolved," Harry stated pointedly, while shaking his head at his friends' determination to hide the fact from him.

"Harry, you will stay out of this," Hermione sighed heavily, not prepared for a confrontation like this one so early in the morning. "I'm handling everything and I can take care of it. I already planned to do the same thing myself, so as much as I appreciate the offer I'd appreciate it more if you wouldn't get involved."

"This isn't something like scuttling an elf out of the city, or making a mark in research and spell writing. This is dealing with Malfoy, day in and day out. You know the bloody prat isn't worth the aggravation," Harry continued, staring back at his friend in bewilderment. Where Hermione's sudden determination to make such dreadful arrangement work was beyond him. He was sure she would have jumped at the chance to send her problem packing out the door and back to his decrepit manor.

"Harry," Hermione sighed, realizing the turn of the conversation wasn't going well. "You aren't going to Gringotts or the Ministry. I've made the arrangement with Malfoy, and it's my business. Now, if I ever get to reopen then I'm going to need help. Besides, Fred and George actually said he was useful."

"Mione' we've treaded lightly around you since that husband of yours died and we've let you go about your business, but not this time," Harry stated firmly, glaring back at Malfoy again. "Malfoy, you'll take this money even if you don't want it. I'll be back this afternoon, and I'm sure Percy will be more than happy to give you your papers and send you on your way."

"Potter, you're getting dangerously close to overstepping your bounds," Malfoy warned fists clenched. If he hit the bloody sod Hermione would never forgive him, and she was somewhat on his side at the moment. Although, just one good blow to the bastard's chin wouldn't hurt him too badly, and it would give his little wife a reason to fuss and fawn over him. Potter liked being made over, or else he wouldn't run around proclaiming his hero status.

"Malfoy, this doesn't concern you. Now, Mione's this is for the best and you know it. You may think you're helping him, but he's beyond redemption and you have to see that somewhere?" Harry looked his adversary up and down shaking his head. Hermione bless her was really trying to make amends and rescue him. Malfoy was a lost cause, and always was.

"Harry did you come here just to start an argument?" Hermione finally crossed her arms over chest, and leveled her friend with a glare. "Dumbledore's gone and I do know that he asked Malfoy to rethink his decision to join the Death Eaters before Snape interceded. You told me Malfoy lowered his wand…"

"He faltered, he was too much of a coward…" Harry interrupted

"You failed Dumbledore. You were focusing on me instead of him. You could've protected him," Malfoy accused.

"My point _is_, would he want the two of you rehashing this years later? He wanted house unity. We're not in school anymore, but we could honor Dumbledore by putting aside differences and recognizing that the mistakes we made had lasting implications for all of us," Hermione finished above their rising voices.

"Mione' you know this peacemaking shite you're spewing is sweet a,nd since you can't rescue your elves anymore you're desperate for a cause. Malfoy isn't it. He's beyond help and it's time you started to see the world for what it was. Malfoy's going to always be a selfish bastard and when he's served his term here he won't remember a thing you've done or said."

"I don't believe that, and I know you'll never get along, but…"

"But nothing," Harry snapped, thoroughly flustered. Hermione was being unreasonable and he didn't want to have to remember those moments with Dumbledore begging Malfoy, begging Snape, and then tumbling off of the Astronomy Tower. "We're not in school anymore, you're right about that. You can't save the world so stop trying. It's time to find something worthwhile. The elves aren't it, Malfoy's not it, and this shop will be a hobby at best. Mione' I don't want to sound harsh, but it's time to grow up."

Hermione's face fell and she couldn't find a retort ready. Dropping her gaze to the floor she drew in a deep breath. Finally she serenely raised her eyes to meet Harry's. "Harry, Malfoy is indebted to me now, and I quite like the idea of it. For all of those years he was such a hateful prat, now he has to clean my shop, do anything I ask, and it's sort of like retribution."

"There's nothing I can say is there?" Harry asked with irritation, even liking less the smirk growing wider on Malfoy's face.

"You can tell me that you won't be going behind my back to release Malfoy," she replied calmly.

"No, I can't promise that. We're all worried about you and I think it's time to…"

"I think it's time for you to go Harry. If you're bent on disagreeing with everything I say, and do, then just go home. Let Ginny put up with you," Hermione snapped, more angrily than she intended. "You know the way out. I'm going upstairs to get something for breakfast."

That was the last Hermione was going to say. She couldn't very well get into it with Harry that she was married to Malfoy and that she knew a different version of Dumbledore's death. Walking away was the best plan right now, and if Harry and Malfoy wanted to continue their war of words or beat each other bloody then let them. Dumbledore's wishes were for peace and unity. If they wanted to be stubborn and hold onto grudges, and sick childish hatred, that was their affair and they could continue to make themselves miserable.

"I'll be back with Percy and those papers," Harry muttered. "I don't know what you've done to make her think you're worth it."

"I think she told you to get out. She was polite about it, but the meaning was clear." Malfoy couldn't kill him, he couldn't even maim him, and the cocky prick deserved it. All they would ever be to each other was enemies and Potter was too self involved or ignorant to try and see another truth.

Not trusting himself to continue Harry left, but not without a final glare of pure hatred and contempt directed at Malfoy. The door to the shop closed with a resounding crash and Malfoy took his hand and sent a large box of wands and gadgets flying to the floor. Potter's visit had ruined everything, he could already sense it, already knew what Hermione was probably thinking.

Glancing down at the mess he'd made Draco sighed, but decided to clean it later. Instead, he stalked up the stairs already smelling some eggs and bacon, hopefully magically prepared. It was strange, but this mundane domesticity actually was comforting, enjoyable. Maybe this was why the Weasley brood was always so chipper, sickeningly so. Molly Weasley cooked, cleaned, and soothed everyone's hurt while Arthur was kind, gentle, and obviously adored his wife. Gods, he was losing what little sanity he had left if he was comparing his life with Hermione to a Weasley morning ritual. Then again, Arthur must have been doing something right. The old bugger had gotten his wife pregnant enough times to start their own Quidditch team, well maybe not quite, but close.

Draco decided to act as if Harry's visit hadn't happened at all. That was the best approach. She already was acting shy about the previous night, and Harry's determination to get him out of her life hadn't made things any easier for her. "Using your wand I hope," he asked lightly, trying to sound teasing, but not hostile.

Hermione didn't answer, and that was always a bad sign. She was thinking and when she thought about something, too much, she always talked herself out of it. "He's gone now, but I don't think he listened to you about…."

"This isn't going to work," Hermione said suddenly, dropping the plate she held in her hands on the counter.

Fucking Potter and his narrow minded, one-sided ideas. "No, I don't think as long as you let that bacon sit over there and burn to a crisp it will. I don't know but maybe you should try turning it or something." Avoiding what she really was saying, that would throw her a bit. Maybe she would get flustered and not finish, Draco decided.

"When Neville gets the papers it'll be better for both of us, especially you, if we just end this. We can't even go one morning without Harry being uncomfortable around you, and you wanting to bloody his nose."

A bloody nose was the least of what Draco wanted to do, but telling her that right now wasn't going to behoove him at all. "So that's it then? Just like that, because Potter can't handle something, you give it up? That's pathetic and I would've thought you were stronger than that."

"Can you really imagine staying with me, knowing that Harry will always be important to me and have a place in my life?" Malfoy would say no and that would be the end of it, Hermione reasoned. Why hadn't Harry stayed away this morning? She wanted just one morning to enjoy things before she would be forced to sort them out.

"Well, when we're at the manor I doubt the Golden Boy will venture out to see you much," Malfoy replied, with a shrug. "It's his choice if he can't live with the decisions you make. You're not a child and he's got to learn to let you have your own life."

"See, you can't even talk about him once without adding an insult in somewhere. I think it's best if you let him do what he wants. Obtain your freedom, and Neville can help us with the rest."

"I'm not going anywhere, and you know that," Draco said, his irritation becoming apparent.

"What happened this morning with Harry _will_ happen again and again. We can play at this for two months, or we can actually admit we're fooling ourselves. Be unique Malfoy, be the first in your family to admit to a mistake and divorce," Hermione sighed, returning to the bacon frying. He was right, she should have used magic, but it was too late now.

"So again we're back to no one but Potter matters, is that right? You would've put yourself in front of him in a battle too wouldn't you? You'd slit your own throat before you'd hurt his feelings, or let him think you didn't abide by his rules and opinions," Malfoy raged, not liking the turn of the conversation.

"Harry's my friend and I owe him my loyalty and respect," Hermione answered demurely.

"I'm you're husband and that should mean more than Potter's undying devotion and approval!" Now he was shouting, but he didn't care. Always, without fail, Potter won. Even when he wasn't trying, and this time Malfoy had heard enough.

"We married for business reasons…" she began

"And we're staying married for reasons that I thought were more pleasing than a boring business arrangement. I'm sorry if that isn't the case, and I'm mistaken, but last night, and this morning you didn't have any trouble enjoying yourself. If Potter hadn't come by you wouldn't be having second thoughts."

"We both would've had them eventually," Hermione said with a weak shrug. This was difficult for her, but Draco didn't understand that. Harry was her best friend, and to simply disregard his feelings, and freely begin a relationship with his mortal enemy was a betrayal. Wasn't it?

"If that Ministry Weasel shows up today, Potter's ignored your wishes, and they've decided to shuffle me back into society you're leaving with me," Draco stated firmly. He meant it too, if things went too far, then so be it. "I'll give Percy our marriage certificate and there won't be a thing he can do. Legally you'll have to come with me if I order you."

"Stop it!" she cried out finally turning to face him, her face flushed. "Don't you see? I know how this will end. You'll convince me that Harry will come around and when he doesn't Ron, Ginny, their family will turn against me. Then, after a while, you'll get bored and after you've decided we won't work either, I'll be left with no one. I'm not stupid Malfoy, I know you'll eventually get back to your old way of life, and when you do there won't be a place for a Muggle-Born witch."

"Do you have any idea how much I want to shake you right now for what you've just said!" No one had faith in him, not even her and he wanted to go and find Potter to make him physically pay for his ruining everything. Potter had her loyalty, her love, her respect, and trust. Malfoy was beginning to wonder if there was any left over for anyone else.

"I wouldn't try it," she hissed, changing quickly from desperation to anger. "Here, if you want something to eat, fix it yourself. As for what happened last night…"

"And this morning," he growled, reminding her. She wasn't going to gloss over this, forget it and tuck it away like it never happened.

"It's better forgotten," Hermione said, the words falling around them like a death knell.

Fists clenched and chest heaving, Malfoy stared back at her not sure of himself or what he was capable of in that moment. He should've left, but he couldn't make himself move, couldn't make his feet carry him away. It was Hermione's mistake to walk by him before he had gotten control of his anger, no, it was hurt and rejection. She was discarding him for Potter. She would rather live her life alone, and among dingy books and second hand items, than with him. As she passed he reached out and caught her arm twirling her about sharply. "I told you before if you mentioned divorce I would be done with talking and resort to actions."

Hermione twisted, but instinctively knew he would ease his grip. "Malfoy stop this. This isn't going to…"

The words died in her throat as they both went sprawling to the floor, Malfoy pinning her beneath him. He looked like a different person, determined and though she wasn't afraid of him anymore, she knew he was somewhat dangerous at the moment. "Let me go," Hermione groaned fighting to keep her legs tightly clamped together. She failed when without much effort on his part he wedged a knee upward and then positioned himself between her thighs.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he drawled, raising an eyebrow and leaning closer, near enough to brush his lips with hers. "Not, now, not ever."


	16. Partial Disclosure

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 16

Partial Disclosure

The sound of the manacles Draco had donned for Harry's visit clinking to the floor was lost on her. Hermione was use to him walking about freely as he wished. Perhaps that had been her mistake, her downfall as it were. Letting him go about as though he was not a criminal had allowed him to easily creep into every facet of her life. Below, just moments ago, she had nearly defended him, and though Harry was wrong, and didn't know the entire truth behind those events years before, he was her friend. He had been there for her throughout their school years from nearly the first day. Draco had tormented her from their first meeting. There should have been no question who should have held her loyalty, but yet there was.

Selfishly, Hermione wanted to chase after Harry and rant at him, telling him everything Draco had told her, and explaining their arrangement. People changed and she knew she was too kindhearted at times, but she was a good judge of character. Draco's views of Harry and the Ministry itself were jaded, but perhaps rightly so. Percy obviously hadn't treated him with any fairness, and Harry's viewpoints were clouded by anger and guilt.

"Potter isn't going to win this time," Draco hissed above her, grey eyes now almost wild and desperate. "He's got the world at his feet and more fame than he's entitled to. The one thing I have left he has to try and take, and I won't let him. Not this time."

"Honestly, Malfoy, Harry doesn't want your bloody inheritance. I know he offered you money today, but he won't expect it back if you take it," Hermione sighed, wondering why she would have thought his sudden fury was anything more than thinking Harry had the upper hand. Luckily, she wasn't truly afraid of him, knowing that even when he had blindly accused her of infidelity before he hadn't been able to harm her.

If possible he looked even angrier and he made good his threat to start shaking her. "Money. Fucking Merlin that's all you truly believe I'm thinking about!"

Surprising her Dracobounded to his feet and stalked from the flat, his footsteps pounding on the stairs as he descended. Hermione slowly eased up into a sitting position, staring at the open door in confusion. For a time she thought he had gone and wouldn't come back, but the stairs soon creaked in agony as he came up them again.

When Draco appeared he was carrying a pouch that looked to be heavy. Throwing it down in front of her he glared, his rage seeming to have grown more intense. "Money isn't my problem, far from it. If I wanted to secure my freedom I'd go right to the Ministry this second. There's more than enough there I assure you, and then some."

Absently Hermione reached out to take hold of the pouch realizing her assumption was correct, and it weighed quite a lot. He was right, there was more than enough inside to appease his sentence with the Ministry. "Why? How long have you had this and haven't used it?"

"Not long, but suffice to say I have no intention of using it until I have to. Now, the question why, is it that hard to believe that I might have some decency left?" Draco kicked the fallen manacles aside while unbuttoning his shirt all the while keeping his furious gaze fastened to her.

"You're not the cruel little boy I remember, no. Still, I can't believe…"

"That's the problem. Potter could tell you the sky had gone purple and you'd eagerly nod and agree, where as I could offer you irrefutable evidence to the contrary and you'd still stand at Potter's side." The shirt was flung to the floor and his shoes were being discarded next.

"Malfoy, I don't understand," Hermione said, frowning pushing herself up to stand. "Harry's feud with you is only a minor reason that we shouldn't…"

"No, it's not a reason at all. Potter's a grown man now and he has his own life. Let him live his and you live yours. What's between us is just that, between us. I'm not asking you to take sides but I'm not going to let you walk away simply because Potter's got his nappies twisted a bit." Draco's shoes were now in the same pile as his shirt and manacles. Hermione had been paying attention to his words and like before she'd let his true intentions go unnoticed.

"Malfoy,"

"Stop saying that!" Draco growled momentarily taking his mind off of the task of removing his pants. "One visit from Potter and you've grown adverse to the use of my name again. What kind of power does he hold over you anyway!"

"He's my friend," Hermione answered, not knowing what he expected her to say. "He cares about me, loves me. He's like a brother really, and after all that he suffered I can't imagine purposefully hurting him."

"However, discarding your husband is quite all right," he sneered, advancing on her, still not completely divested of his clothing. "What about hurting yourself? I don't believe you don't want this, _us_. Is it all right for Potter to have everything he wants while you can't indulge yourself?'

"It's not just about Harry," Hermione stated again, suddenly wondering if she was just running out of excuses and this was her last one to grasp. Malfoy could hurt her emotionally in ways that she might never recover from. Already Hermione admitted to herself that she'd grown too attached. That she wanted him more than was healthy really.

That was exactly what she was doing. She'd had a number of disagreements with Harry in the past, about far greater things than who she became involved with. They always found common ground again. If she chose Malfoy finding common ground with Harry would take sometime, but he wouldn't abandon her completely. In the back of her mind Hermione knew that, but the thought of being abandoned by Malfoy if she opened herself, her heart, was more frightening.

"No, maybe you're telling the truth there," Draco said thoughtfully, coming behind her and loosening the clasp of her robe so it slid to the floor in a pool around her feet. "You're afraid right now and I'm not sure why."

"Of course not," she snapped, turning to face him, trying to appear as angry as he was. "You don't have anything to lose and I have everything. Friends, family, everything."

"If these friends and family are so dedicated and deserve such blind devotion don't you suppose they ought to accept the choices you make?" Draco asked, turning her head to the side to nip and suck the skin below her ear. He wasn't being gentle, and Hermione knew partly he was attempting to overwhelm her and his anger played a role in his behavior.

"My family, my mother and father, would never understand but they'd accept it," she sighed, trembling and to her shame leaning against him. "The Weasleys, Harry, they'd possibly shut me out forever."

"From what I know of the Weasleys they're pretty accepting. Merlin, Hermione they have a werewolf for a son and Arthur's been branded a blood traitor for years. They're used to dealing with prejudice," Draco refuted her easily, hands stealing beneath the small cotton shirt to roughly cup her breasts and rub his thumbs over the nipples that hardened even through the thin material of her bra. "Still, that's nothing to be afraid of."

"I'm afraid of you," she cried out, pulling away from Draco and succeeding in freeing herself when her outburst surprised him.

"Of me? Good Gods why?" he shouted, the rage he had managed to suppress somewhat returning anew.

"For too many reasons to count, and for damn good ones," Hermione whispered, suddenly realizing she'd already said too much. "The moment you get released it will all change, and…"

"And we'll go home to the manor and put all of this behind us. The elves, the Ministry, all of it!"

"You'll never understand and that's what I'm afraid of most. Do you want to hear how weak I am? Then fine, I'm like every other woman Malfoy. I want kind words here and there. I want children someday, and I want love. As far as you're concerned I know emotions make people pathetic, and so someday I know you'll get tired of me." This wasn't going well and Hermione was already on the verge of angry tears. Weakness, that was all Dracoprobably saw in her now and she felt a sick knot of dread forming in her stomach.

"Would you accept love from someone if they weren't approved first by your sainted Potter and the Weasley brood? That's the real question isn't it?" Draco's voice had lost all of its anger and was soft and lilting. Her suspicions grew at a rapid pace and she watched him warily.

"Do you remember when I told you that you gave me something to think about in prison?" he asked, as he began to pace in front of her, eyes never leaving hers.

"Yes." That was an odd question, but Hermione was curious as to where it would lead.

"I lied," Draco whispered, and the tears spilled over her cheeks then. She had been right and he didn't want her as much as she had been lead to believe.

"Well, you were always good at that, lying that is. I should have suspected…."

"Obsessed, lusted, eventually started to descend into madness over you was more to the point," he cut her off before she could begin to take the conversation in another direction. "Prison isn't pleasant, it's hard and cruel, and for the year I was there I had no hope of ever seeing the outside again. So, after I stopped hating myself, and you for the path my thoughts were taking, I started imaging what it could be like, marriage, us, every side of it. At night when the Dementors moaned and wailed up through the halls I thought of you. I'm not going to lie and say pretty things. I don't know how and I'm not going to try and learn now. However, when I was sent back to the Ministry and that prick Percy had arranged for me to be near you again, I was given my last chance to make a life for myself."

Malfoy stopped his pacing and took a deep breath before walking toward her. This time Hermione didn't retreat, but stared back at him wonderingly. "I'll be honest, my initial reasons for staying married were selfish, well most of them still are, but lust and possession were what I convinced myself of first."

"Maybe we shouldn't discuss this anymore," Hermione murmured swiping at her tears furiously, only to find them replaced with fresh ones.

"You're the one thing I have left and I mean it when I say no one, not even Potter, is going to take you away from me." He stood in front of her, his voice soft and inviting, but not touching her.

"That's a very possessive thing to say." Hermionee tried to sound outraged, but a small burst of joy leapt within her heart. It wasn't a declaration of love, but Malfoy never relinquished what he considered his. He guarded the things he cared about closely and refused to surrender them. Selfish really, but for some reason it was reassuring to her.

"If you wanted flowery words you should have found a poet in prison," Draco shrugged, unaffected by her statement. "You want children? That's not such an extraordinary request and I'll admit the idea of starting a family someday is appealing. Now as far as love…"

"You made yourself clear before," Hermione interrupted, dropping her gaze to the floor, not wanting to hear how love had no place in marriage or the Wizarding World.

"Would you accept love from me or would you choose Potter and the Weasleys?"

Her eyes widened and she glanced back up certain she wasn't hearing him quite correctly. "Excuse me?"

For the first time since she'd met him Draco looked unsure of himself, almost lost. "I suppose there's such a thing as love. The Weasleys obviously know about it, what it feels like, how to express it. You've always so selflessly helped others and whenever you've talked about your parents there's a certain sparkle in your eyes that isn't there very often. I'm just not certain love is something I know how to feel."

"Do you love your mother?" Hermione asked bravely, knowing how dangerous the topic of his family was.

"I respected her for awhile, until she became so distant and submissive to my father that she wasn't recognizable," he replied, showing no signs of irritation with her question. "You, you're different, in that until the last possible option had been exhausted you still fought for that elf, endangering yourself in the process. Instead of letting yourself be intimidated you challenged everything that you thought was wrong. Granted, I wanted to lock you in this flat and never let you see the light of day again after that gypsy nonsense, but your kindness and your determination, I respect that."

"Has anyone ever told you they loved you?" The moment Hermione heard the words come out of her mouth she wanted to groan and throw herself over edge of her building.

A flicker of anger sprang to life in Draco's eyes but quickly disappeared. "No, and I don't need an empty declaration either. Besides, I don't know what it is I feel. It hurts, so that can't be love. This is rubbish," he sighed with annoyance, and turned away running his hands through his hair. "You're so certain that Potter's approval is all that matters to you. No one can compete with that."

"No, it's not all that matters," Hermione whispered, but didn't dare go to him. Taking a deep breath she didn't let herself think about her next actions. Grasping the edge of her shirt in her hands Hermione drew the garment over her had and cast it to the floor. When she was barefoot, next she glanced over again to see that his back was still to her and stripped away the loose pair of jeans now standing only in a simple bra and panties.

He was still standing away from her quiet and very stiff, his anger having not fully left. It was uncomfortable for Draco, she knew, to talk so openly and yet with her he had. Maybe he was right, Harry would one day know the truth about Dumbledore and though he'd never forgive Malfoy he'd surely understand that he'd changed. Harry would understand that she needed Malfoy just as he needed his wife Ginny. "I think we're both afraid. I'm afraid of never being loved and you're afraid of not knowing how."

Draco snorted derisively over that remark but didn't turn around. Hermione was shaking and unsure of herself but she continued unhooking the bra at the back and letting it glide to the floor in her wake. Then, even more unsteadily she slid her underwear past her hips and stepped from them as well. Licking her dry lips, Hermione wondered when she had grown so bold or so needy for someone.

Maybe it was the fact Harry was gone and his visit was starting to become a distant memory, or maybe it was her finally understanding something about her husband. He wanted her, could have left her when he acquired the money from the pouch but had stayed. Now, he was grappling with his own doubts. Malfoy was human and he'd tried to make her see that, no he'd let her see that the night before and just now.

Slowly Hermione opened her arms and slipped them around his lean waist pressing herself against his back. As she had expected Draco stiffened even more but didn't move away. "When you chose to follow Voldemort's orders to protect your mother that was love. You're not as selfish as you like to think you are, but I promise I won't ruin your reputation and let anyone else know."

"I'm terribly glad to know my reputation is safe in your hands," Draco drawled wryly, not moving, hardly breathing.

"What do you feel right now?" Hermione whispered, and suddenly she was ready to banish her pride and beg him to admit to anything that remotely might lead to his loving her. It was as much for his own good as her own desires. Besides, everyone she knew had someone now, and if she wanted Malfoy they would have to accept it.

Draco drew in a deep ragged breath. "You're making this damned difficult and you're enjoying it aren't you?" he accused but there wasn't enough malice in his tone to convince her he was truly livid anymore. "Very well, the thought of the Du Marier's hurting you makes me physically ill, the night I thought you were with Percy I wanted to actually murder him for touching you, and no matter how much you protest or try and fight me I can't walk away. That pouch should be evidence enough that I'm committed to having our marriage work."

"Then, I don't think we need to continue this for just two months," Hermione said pressing her cheek to his skin and rubbing it back and forth. She might well regret this. They were going to have their differences and they fought to win, the both of them. However, Draco had stayed with her during the Ministry search and helped her afterward, he'd kept her secrets when it would have been to his advantage to proclaim her crimes to the world, and he'd managed to give her something to hope for again, a life, after her failed S.P.E.W. and shop endeavor.

"I'm not letting you go I told you that," Draco rounded on her furiously then, misunderstanding her words.

"That's good to hear and someday maybe when you're ready you'll admit to how you really feel," Hermione said, smiling back sweetly, her tears drying and her faith in taking this leap in another direction strengthening.

Now it was Draco's turn to be speechless, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Hermione I'm in no mood to play games so if…"

"This won't be easy, far from it. You're going to hurt me and I'm going to make you angry but if you truly want to try then, so do I," Hermione nodded, some of her shyness returning as his gaze was traveling up and down her body now. She kept her gaze fixed on Draco determined to give herself over in everyway. He'd seen everything and touched everywhere, but somehow in the light of day his stare was more intense, more heated.

Warily, Draco reached out and took her face in his hands, pushing her hair back from her cheeks. "Does this mean you're willing to admit this then, to everyone once we can find a way so that Percy can't imprison you?"

"I'm not ashamed," Hermione answered truthfully, finding herself feeling free and more at ease than she had since before they'd made their bargain over a year ago.

Draco's eyes hardened into shards of ice again confusing her at the cause. "What happens when Potter comes back and reopens old wounds?"

Hermione wasn't ready for that moment yet, but she knew what she would say. "Harry's a friend, my best friend, but I have a husband now. Like Harry would choose Ginny, I choose you."

The look in his eyes didn't soften and she knew he didn't completely believe her, but that would come in time. Their decision to stay married was new to them both in many ways and she was still apprehensive about her decision. However, Hermione wasn't going to change her mind, and she had to put her trust in Draco that he wouldn't either.

Taking another chance, Hermione leaned up and pressed her lips to his, softly not expecting the almost violent response in turn. Draco twisted Hermione around and began pushing her back to the bedroom, one arm wrapped around her waist another hand threaded through her hair. She eagerly opened her mouth letting his tongue delve between her lips and teasing him in kind with her own.

Sometime later Hermione readily curled up in the bed, still unmade from this morning, which was unlike her to forgo such a mundane morning chore. When she felt Draco at her side, Hermione rolled to face him, his expression still unreadable but severe. Draco was struggling again, trying to separate his old ways with what he was feeling. That was no different than herself really. There was something between them now that she didn't understand, but didn't want to lose either.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, anything to sort out her confusion and depth of what she was feeling, but Draco shook his head. Easing her into his arms, he held her more tightly than was necessary. So, Hermione remained silent and enjoyed the momentary lull in their lives. This was more than enough for now. She couldn't expect him to express himself any further than she could at this point. Instead of questioning or analyzing something, for the first time she could remember she let her emotions guide her. Drifting to sleep for a small nap she decided not to care what the rest of the world thought. For this moment in time she was happy and that was all that mattered.

Harry, most likely due to pressure from Neville to leave Hermione be, did not go to the Ministry and Percy did not appear that afternoon or for many weeks following. Snow had long ago covered all of the shops and homes near Diagon Alley and Christmas was approaching. Neville finally found a free moment to check on Hermione and offer the news that the injunction against her shop had been lifted, however he was disappointed to inform her that he was finding it exceedingly difficult to obtain her divorce papers. To his surprise Hermione had just shrugged and told him not to worry too much. She'd find another way to make her situation work. When Neville asked as to what she was thinking of now, Hermione just told him she was handling it, and if Harry approached him about the subject of her agreement with Draco then, he was to tell him nothing.

Though Hermione attended the dinner with the Weasleys, and at least two more lunches after that, she and Harry hadn't truly gotten over their quarrel. Hermione was finding it not as difficult to remain in Harry's bad graces as she had first thought. Even if he didn't realize it, he was wrong, and someday he would have to admit to it. However, Ginny and Ron did not treat her any differently simply because she and Harry couldn't seem to hold a civil conversation any longer. It would pass, it always did, but for now Hermione was content.

Quietly she and Draco had reopened her shop, much to Draco's displeasure. He'd grown accustomed to having their days free and having to deal with the occasional customer. Keeping his distance from her for the benefit of others once again, playing the aloof servant annoyed Draco considerably. After the Ministry had gotten tired of catering to the Du Mariers he would go to Scrimgeour himself, inform him of his situation leaving out the more intimate details, and they would quietly agree that no further action was needed. He and Hermione would announce their marriage, and of course Potter's small near death experience at hearing the news would be pleasant to witness. In a little while, even the Du Marier's would have to find another project, something much more entertaining than targeting her, but he also knew the price for dishonoring them.

To maintain the pretense, when Fred and George had been inundated with customers during the coming holiday and they'd requested Hermione send Draco to help before Christmas, Hermione had been forced to agree. This was of course after numerous protests from Draco who also had to comply. Partly because the idea of three straight days with the Weasley twins already made his head ache to think about it, but mainly because leaving Hermione by herself didn't make him comfortable he had argued considerably.

Draco had gotten better at living with Hermione, realizing that he didn't have to bite back every remark because she seemed more sure of herself around him. Whenever he had gone too far, or was in danger of inciting her anger too much, he was learning when to retreat. In the end though, to prevent from raising suspicions he was led in shame to the Weasley menagerie and forced to listen to harpy women haggling about something their children wanted or their husbands simply couldn't live without. He'd give the Weasleys' this, they had a serene patience that if they hadn't been so wickedly mischievous he'd consider them saints.

At the end of the second day Ron had dropped in just as the shop doors were locked and Fred was prepared to escort Draco back to Hermione's. "So, you both got stuck with the ferret prat again?" he remarked, enjoying the ability to smirk with superiority while Draco was resetting the shelf a group of unruly and lucky to survive children had destroyed earlier.

"Seriously though Malfoy, any more letters," Ron asked, his tone no longer suggesting he wanted to bait and torment. "Harry told me about the others and that you refused to give them to him."

"Potter wanted to turn them over to Scrimegeour," Malfoy stated, not turning to acknowledge the redheaded dolt. Of all of the things he'd never live down it would have to be the fake Moody's overreacting at a small disagreement, with of all people, Golden Potter.

"And that is bad because…" Ron alluded, thoroughly confused.

"Because you know the Minister would drop the problem in your Weasel brother's lap and since he's sniffing about for the Du Marier's I doubt he'd put much effort into pursuing it."

"He's got a point Ron," Fred acknowledged, reluctantly. "Percy's nosing around for those tut mouthed bastards and he's not paying attention to anything else. Mum's furious with him still for searching Hermione's like he did, but he's as pretentious with her as everyone else."

"Still, whose to say Scrimgeour wouldn't look into it himself. He is our Minister we should trust him," Ron disagreed, picking through a small canister of candy left open on the front counter.

"Well, I'm not willing to take any chances," Draco snapped, without thinking better of it when the shelf went crashing to the floor again.

Fred exchanged a look with Ron at the comment, but remained silent. To be honest since Malfoy had come to them weeks ago with the knowledge that Hermione was being threatened, and two minor attempts made on her life Fred hadn't thought of his intentions as noble in the least. After that, he had shared every letter or remotely threatening note, and there had been many following the search of her shop. That Malfoy cared at all about her safety seemed impossible, so surely the intensity in his tone was surely only because of the frustration at his task. Fixing something without magic was humbling and annoying for someone like Malfoy. That was the reason for the irritation in his statement.

"Percy's going to find something else to focus on soon enough, he always does," Ron shrugged, popping some strawberry candy into his mouth. He was instantly sorry when with the first bite a loud pop echoed in his mouth and then the remaining bites burned his teeth and tongue like a slow moving acid. "Bloody hell Fred," he shrieked. "You let children eat this?"

"Muggles have this sweet and sour candy, and so we just embellished a bit on their version of the same kind that pops and fizzes in your mouth."  
"Ahem," Draco cleared his throat loudly, giving up on the misshapen shelf. Let the Weasley buggers clean up after the ill-tempered brats they allowed in their shop. "We were discussing Granger."

"You still didn't answer me," Ron continued, his face somewhat pale after swallowing the dangerous candy. "Any more notes since the last time you talked to Fred and George."

"No," Draco answered, thoughtfully. "Frankly, I think that's something to worry about. It's almost like they've decided on a plan of action. No more taunting and teasing."  
"Has anything seemed out of the ordinary?" This question came from George who had finished locking the shop and came to stand beside his brothers.

"No," Draco answered again. "No notes, no gifts, nothing and no strange customers since the shop reopened."

"Keep yourself on guard," George reiterated. "Come on Malfoy I'll lead you home. It's getting dark and I don't like the idea of Mione' alone for very long."

"Then you could've not asked her to send me over here," Draco halfway snarled, wondering if this Weasley brood understood how dangerous the Du Mariers truly were.

"Glad to see his disposition is unaffected," Ron drawled dryly, reaching for more candy but stopped himself and chose some safe looking chocolate in the adjacent container.

"We really did need the help, but how else are we supposed to know if she's receiving threats still and discuss this," George said simply, nodding for the door and urging Draco to follow.

"If it wasn't for Percy being such a git I'd report your behavior Malfoy," Ron chided, warily sniffing the chocolate before popping the piece in his mouth.

Choosing to ignore the empty threat Draco hurried to follow George and get home. Odd, but the shop did seem like a home now in some ways. When he allowed himself to examine his situation too closely he was contented and didn't miss the lavish comforts as much as he thought he would. Then again, after a year of prison his wife's flat above the shop was lavish. Pulling the worn cloak over his shoulders, Draco paused one last time at a snort and sudden coughing spell that Ron had given in to.

"Forgot to tell you the chocolates were filled with grasshoppers. Muggles like them," Fred said, as though Ron's reaction was unwarranted.

"Yes, they're usually dead though!" Ron sputtered some more, as the grasshopper jumped frantically over the counter.

It was not a far walk, so even at a distance the sight of Hermione's shop door hanging wide open and swinging in the wind was visible. Draco noticed it first and quickened his pace George soon following. Reaching the shop, and looking inside it was, if possible, more disheveled than after the Ministry search. "Mione'," George called worriedly, glancing around shrewdly.

There was a shuffling noise and Hermione appeared from behind the curtain at the back clutching her side. Staggering once she managed to grab hold of the counter to steady herself, and her eyes immediately shone with immense relief when she looked up. "Draco, I tried…" she whispered, but her voice failed her and she bent over recoiling in pain.

"Oh, Gods." It was barely a whisper that George couldn't even hear as Draco crossed the distance of the shop, and caught her before she crumpled to the floor.

Sinking with her to floor she was dead weight as she fell against Draco's chest. Hermione's robes were wet with blood and a bruises was already forming in the shape of curling fingers around her neck. George rushed forward, crouching down, and was as surprised by Hermione's injuries as the mix of rage and anguish distorting Malfoy's features. "We've got to get her to St. Mungo's," he urged, reaching for her.

"Don't touch her," Draco ground out, twisting away and drawing her closer pushing strands of matted hair from her forehead with shaking hands.

Frowning George shrunk back turning his head at the sound of feet crunching on broken glass. "Oh thank Gods, Percy," George sighed. "Someone notified the Ministry."

"Great Merlin what happened here?" Percy asked, perusing the shop as Neville appeared behind him.

Exasperated at his brother's casual arrogance George leveled him with a glare. "Obviously Hermione's been assaulted and she needs to be taken to St. Mungo's."

"Well, I'll send someone else down here George, but you can get her to the hospital. I'm actually here for Malfoy. Seems he's not as serious about bettering himself as we first believed." Percy strode forward to stand and glare down at the prisoner who he considered the most distasteful he'd ever encountered.

"If it wasn't for the fact that you'd been at the twins' shop all day I might be inclined to think you'd done this to Hermione as well as murder her parents," Percy said, his lips curling into a mirthless grin. "I must say I'm finally glad to have this all over with. It's such a shame it took so long for you to finally reveal your true character."

"Percy, can this wait!" George sighed, settling back down beside Malfoy and Hermione.

"Come along Malfoy," Percy said, obviously pleased with himself and leaning down a hand, grasping Draco's shoulder. "Don't make this difficult. Let Miss Granger go, and we'll discuss your affinity for repeating your crimes at the Ministry."

"Get your fucking hands off of me," Draco growled the warning, turning a vengeful glare upon the Junior Minister.

"Mr. Longbottom, restrain him," Percy shrugged, stepping back and waving his hand. "George don't you think you should be getting Hermione some assistance."

Not sure why he was trying to be cautious, or helpful, George lightly touched Draco's arm. "I'm going to take her to the hospital. Now I don't what this other bollocks Percy's spewing is, but…"

"There were three witnesses to the crime last night in which one Mr. David Granger and one Mrs. Victoria Granger were murdered. All descriptions fit Mr. Malfoy to the letter. Now, be a good man George, worry about Hermione and let me see to my own affairs," Percy loftily said, still smirking at Draco, almost salivating at the moment he would see him chained to a wall in the Ministry again.

When Draco met George's eyes he seemed to be searching for some sincerity at the other man's claim. "Directly to the hospital," he said, sounding worried and authoritative all at once.

"Yes, now…" George was about to have Draco's cooperation when Percy interceded.

"Let her go. You've caused her enough pain for the time being wouldn't you say?" Percy taunted, and stalked forward again when Neville didn't pounce on Draco quickly enough for his liking.

Percy jerked Draco by the arm roughly when he wasn't expecting the contact, almost sending Hermione to the floor had George not been near. Gathering Hermione up and standing George stepped out that way when Malfoy whirled wildly on Percy. With an inhuman growl he lunged at the other man hands wrapped around his throat. Percy sputtered unused to physically defending himself. "Longbottom! Restrain him!"

Shaking his head, and secretly wishing Malfoy would actually leave some marks on the pretentious prat, Neville slowly walked over. Taking the sight in for longer than was necessary he finally uttered the spell. _"Petrificus Totalus."_

Neville breathed a sigh of relief when the spell actually worked and immobilized Malfoy effectively. He had been so focused on Percy he hadn't had the time to deflect or fight the spell in anyway. Percy sputtered a few more times before straightening his robes, and his normal cool air of disdain returned. "Take him to the Ministry and inform me when he's mobile again," he snapped, twirling on his heel and sweeping from the shop.

"George, please let me know when you've got Hermione safely to the hospital," Neville said, his eyes roaming over his friend in concern.

"Of course, now hurry along before Malfoy comes around at all. He might actually kill Percy this time," George said, situating Hermione more securely in his arms and raising his wand to Disapparate.

"George, no offense to your family in anyway," Neville said, watching Malfoy carefully but finding he was still rigid and unmoving on the floor. "I might just let him."


	17. Hermione’s Truth and Shame

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 17

Hermione's Truth and Shame

She remembered everything, the magic that had held her in place while the unknown figures placed their hands around her throat, the knives that slashed at her skin. Hermione had faced much worse and honestly she wasn't traumatized. The attack wasn't as brutal as it could have been, but there would be left over bruises, some scars that might not heal. That didn't matter at the moment however.

They hadn't intended to kill her and Hermione knew that. It was all to frighten and humiliate her. They also wanted to make it seem like a Muggle crime, which was supposed to disgrace her further. Either way the haze that she had lain in for an indeterminable amount of time was finally beginning to clear, and as her eyes opened she blinked trying to focus. The person she had hoped to find leaning over her was not there, and though she knew it was improbable that they would allow Draco near her right now, that didn't stop her from wanting to ask for him.

Ginny stared back at her with a reassuring smile and kept squeezing her hand. "Hermione, can you hear me?"

"Hmm," she groaned, easing slowly up in the bed and deciding against trying to sit for the time being.

"Harry, Mum she's awake," Ginny whispered happily toward the direction of the door.

Harry and Molly Weasley came into view, each looking as relieved as Ginny. "Oh dear you gave us a start," Molly said, coming forward and kissing Hermione's forehead. "When George flooed us we weren't sure what had happened. Do you remember anything at all?"

"They had masks, bound me magically and then used knives, not wands," Hermione replied weakly, wondering why everything still seemed so fuzzy.

"Well we're just happy that you're going to be all right," Molly sighed, dashing back tears with her hands. "Don't worry about having to answer any questions until you're ready. When you're up to it the Ministry can send someone here and they can try and find who did this."

"Oh, my parents," Hermione sighed, while nodding at Molly's statement. "No one told them did they? They'll worry and there's no need. I'll be fine and I'll make certain to keep Draco at the shop instead of sending him over to the twins'."

A dark silence fell over the room, and Hermione instinctively knew something was horribly wrong. "Ginny? You didn't owl my parents did you? They've had enough of hearing about my past adventures. This isn't…."

"Mione'," Harry began softly, brushing a curl behind her ear. "Percy came to the shop after Malfoy and George found you. He came to arrest Malfoy for breaking his bond to the Ministry by leaving without your permission and for…"

"Harry, Draco hasn't left the shop except to help George and Fred," Hermione groaned, already sensing a disagreement brewing and not feeling up to the challenge.

"Mione' the Ministry has reason to believe that Malfoy committed another murder, well murders," Harry continued. "I'm so sorry, Gods I am, but Mione' there's significant evidence that suggests that Malfoy murdered your Mum and Dad."

She was going to be ill, no she was going to scream and never stop. It wasn't right, it couldn't be. Her parents had been placed in hiding at least three times during the war to protect them from Death Eaters. Now the Death Eaters were no more and they were supposed to be safe. Then, Hermione's mind registered another fact; they were convinced that Draco had murdered them. There was no second-guessing this as inaccurate. He'd been in the flat with her every night since they had decided to continue their marriage and in the sight of Fred and George at all times. "No," she whispered not recognizing her own voice.

"Darling, now I know this is a shock and..."

"No, it wasn't Draco," Hermione stated fervently, finding the strength to raise herself up in the bed and reach for Molly's hand. "When, when did they…" she couldn't finish the statement. The numbness would go away wouldn't it? The disbelief would fade.

"The night before you were attacked, about three days ago," Molly said, tears forming in her eyes again. "Harry told me you thought you were making some progress with that Malfoy boy, but everyone can misread another's character."

"He was with me," Hermione blurted out, no longer caring who knew any longer. She'd kept the secret for more than a year and suddenly it didn't matter who knew or why. Something inside of her was crumbling, breaking into a thousand pieces and she couldn't stand the deceit any longer.

"I know you think he was in that cellar you let him sleep in," Harry said softly, keeping his temper from flaring at the fact Hermione immediately jumped to Malfoy's defense.

"He wasn't in the cellar Harry," Hermione snapped, eyes blazing. "Where's Neville? He can prove what I'm about to tell you."

"He's been checking in on you everyday and he should be here in a little while again," Ginny assured her, some comprehension dawning as to Hermione's true meaning.

"What do you mean?" Harry demanded, his reassuring tone gone.

"He was in my flat above the shop Harry, the entire night. Do I need to expound further or can you use your imagination?"

"Oh my," Molly gasped, eyes growing wide.

"Molly, it isn't like it sounds," Hermione rushed to explain, wincing as she shifted in the bed. "Ginny, the man I married to get my inheritance didn't die. I had to make the deadline in the will and I got desperate. So, I made a plan, and thinking back it sounds ridiculous and I must have been barking mad to consider it, but at the time it made sense. Draco was supposed to be executed, and since I didn't really want to marry, I thought it would be easier if the man I chose wouldn't be around to complicate things. "

"You didn't?" Ginny asked, a weird smile of shock and confusion turning up her lips.

"Fucking Malfoy! Hermione, you said you married some American bloke who died!" Harry shouted, thoroughly outraged and stepping away from her bed.

"You've got to floo Neville and tell him to come," Hermione pleaded with Molly and Ginny. "He helped me disguise the marriage certificate that had to be filed at the Ministry. Percy's made a mistake and…"

"You made the mistake," Harry accused harshly. "I thought you had more sense than this. Just for money you married yourself to the one man who tried to destroy everything we were taught to respect and uphold. He's killed Muggles Hermione! Gods, what were you thinking?"  
"He didn't kill Muggles and what happened in the tower isn't exactly how you remember it," Hermione said defensively, not really wanting to approach the subject of Dumbledore's death. Hermione was in pain however, her husband was falsely accused once again, and she was still grappling with the news about her parents. That part had to be a nightmare, it must be. No, she would get Neville and he would make sure Draco was released. They would go home and she would owl her parents and they would respond.

"Don't you dare defend him!" Harry growled at her, green eyes flashing and fists clenched at his sides. "He was going to kill Dumbledore. Kill him, Mione'."

"He didn't did he?" Hermione snarled back. "Snape killed Dumbledore, not Draco and you can…"

"Harry," Ginny called, but the door slamming was all that answered her. Sighing, Ginny turned back to her friend. "You know he's never gotten over that night. Listen, I'll go floo Neville, but we're not through here. There's a lot to discuss."

Hermione didn't answer she only stared off toward the window watching the first spatters of rain hit the glass. She heard Ginny sigh again but still didn't acknowledge her. They weren't gone and now her secret was out. No more denying or lying to her friends and family. She wondered what her father would think of Draco after all of those years of telling him how horrid Draco had been to her at school.

"Dear, would you like me to get you something to eat?" Molly asked, not sure what to say or do. The news that Hermione was still married, let alone to the Malfoy heir, was surprising and shocking. She didn't know what to say about any of it.

"No, thank you," Hermione whispered, lost in her own thoughts. It was over, the secrets, the lies. She was sure her mother would want to make them renew their vows with caterers and flowers and everything she'd ever dreamed of for her only child.

Yet, somewhere in her mind Hermione knew she was hiding from the truth and making excuses. She wasn't ready to let go, to accept it yet. She couldn't let herself believe she was alone, that her family gone forever. Neville would come though, and he would make sure they knew it was all a misunderstanding. He would make sure they released Draco and then maybe she could stand it. If she could just maintain her control for a while longer, just until she saw Draco again, then it would be all right.

"Were you pleased to find Miss Granger injured? Did it save you the trouble later on? It must be a relief to you knowing she's dead," Percy repeated the same questions he had asked for the past three days.

The sodding coward didn't even come close enough for Draco to reach him anymore. He was nothing if self preserving and smart. So, instead he was forced to imagine the bastard lying prone on the floor bleeding and writing in agony, moments from death. Thinking about Percy's death put other morbid thoughts aside and kept him from remembering the last time he'd seen her.

Hermione was dead. Percy had stated the fact and Draco didn't trust himself to speak or acknowledge the Junior Minister. He kept his back to the man, arms to his sides and fists unclenched to appear outwardly calm and simply defiant. However, when it was proven that he wasn't guilty, and he was released again, Percy wasn't going to be able to hide or run far enough. Draco would see to that. The bastard had all but given the Du Mariers free reign to do as they pleased, and Draco was convinced they were behind the attack.

"Still not talking. That's another night then," Percy sighed, meaning he would withhold food again until Malfoy decided to answer his questions.

There was no response from the other side of the cell, not that Percy had expected any. He'd known Malfoy would return and he'd show himself for what he truly was. He was the son of a Death Eater, had joined Voldemort's ranks himself. This was a fitting punishment for betraying the Ministry. There were some discrepancies in the claims, but Malfoy deserved to be reprimanded for his crimes in a more substantial way than at playing Indentured Servant. "We'll resume this tomorrow. Improving your attitude might benefit you later."

The door to the cell couldn't close fast enough, and when Draco knew he was alone, he released the breath he had been holding also letting the some of the fury escape as well. Unable to contain the pent up cry of rage he slammed an already bruised and bloody fist into the nearest wall. Finding that did him little good he slumped down to the floor leaning his head back and closing his eyes. The same familiar clanging echoed around him as the manacles on his wrists pulled the chains linked into the wall.

Maybe staying in prison wouldn't be so terrible after all if Hermione were dead. If he was lucky they might find him guilty and give him The Dementor's Kiss. Then he wouldn't remember anything, wouldn't remember what happiness had felt like. That was better than living each day having known what his life could have been, seeing he couldn't have what he wanted any longer.

Draco had begged Percy that first night, shamelessly after he'd recovered from Longbottom's spell. Why couldn't the bugger be as inept now as he was in school, but that was beside the point? He'd denied everything at first, and again like he swore he would never do, he'd begged Percy to tell him that Hermione was alive and safe. Finally at the end of his interrogation Weasley had stood at the door of his cell and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid Miss Granger's condition deteriorated rather quickly after her arrival at the hospital. At least the poor girl had my family with her in the end."  
Recalling those words Draco decided The Dementor's Kiss could wait, and he'd punish Percy first. Revenge assuaged the soul, or so he was taught. When someone caused you pain you returned the favor as it were. Percy had been so intent on destroying him and catering to the wealthy families he'd failed Hermione when she needed his help the most. No, you failed her, Draco snarled to himself. Just like Potter failed Dumbledore in the tower. You're no better than the scar headed git you've despised for years.

Dropping his head onto his knees that he drew to him, Draco didn't hear the cell door opening again. Footsteps were also lost on him until the visitor spoke. "Malfoy?"

Out of surprise he forgot to maintain his silence and lifted his head to peer up at the intruder. "Longbottom? Gods, what do you want?"

"She told them," Neville said simply, without preamble. "She told them that you both were married last year, that she was planning on remaining married to you, and that you were with her the entire night that her parents were murdered."

"Why? Why does it matter now?" Draco shrugged, and shook his head, his tone distant and detached.

"Because this means that you're cleared of the crime and Percy, narrow minded sod that he is, has to release you."

"Again, that matters how?"

"What the bloody hell is the matter with you?" Neville demanded harshly. "Why aren't you jumping at this? This is what you've wanted, for Hermione to admit to your marriage, for you to get your freedom. She signed the release papers and they're waiting on Scrimgeour's desk."

"I know she's dead Longbottom!" Draco shouted, coming to his feet, and advancing on the Auror before him. "That Weasel told me…"

"Good Gods no," Neville sighed, this time with exasperation. Percy had probably wanted to make Malfoy slip and say something if he thought Hermione had died in the attack. The thing was Neville was beginning to suspect that Percy's determination to make Malfoy believe the worse had the opposite affect. "She's fine. She's going to be released tomorrow, but Malfoy that's what…"

"She's alive?" The question was a hesitant whisper. "Weasley lied?"

"He was trying to trick you, make you say something probably to incriminate yourself. That's not the point though…."

"You're certain?" Draco asked again, impulsively shaking Neville by the shoulders. "She's fine and she's going to be able to leave the hospital?"  
"Yes, and go straight to the Ministry for interrogation," Neville said, shocked that Malfoy was acting so strangely. "They found the certificate in her flat with some of your things and the one here as well. Percy knows she married you through dishonest means and he's going to charge her with sedition."

"You let this happen?" Draco raged at Neville, his mind already trying to devise a quick scheme. He hadn't been as careful with the certificate after Hermione's agreement that they stay married. Having the Ministry discover it was his fault. Then Draco's thoughts shifted again, money, that had always worked before and obviously the Du Mariers were flashing about quite a bit to create such a fiasco lately. He'd have to buy their way out of this now. "Longbottom, just when I thought you might be useful…" he trailed off beginning to pace.

"What she sees in you I'll never know," Neville sighed, his own anger growing. "I came here to tell you this so you could be informed. Percy's bringing her in tomorrow when she's released. Luckily, whoever attacked her only meant to scare her. Just minor injuries really, nothing that shouldn't be completely healed by the end of the week the healers say. They'll try again possibly, and I'm guessing it has to do with that elf nonsense of hers."

"Is Scrimgeour still here?" Draco asked halting for a brief moment.

"No, he signed your release papers a few minutes ago and left for the evening. Again, all of that isn't the point. Actually with you free and able to claim your inheritance this might be better for Mione' in the long run."

"I want to see him as soon as he is in. Do you suppose he could be persuaded to return and discuss some business?"

Neville shook his head. "Doubtful. He's rather fed up with this S.P.E.W. drivel and the Du Mariers altogether. Also, he's none to pleased that you're going to be walking around in society again."

"Oh, but I'm certain he'll accept whatever donations I make as long as he keeps Percy from pursuing Hermione's case," Draco sneered, having no great love for the Ministry anymore himself. He'd lost most of his respect for them years ago, but if he thought about it, Percy was the real problem.

"I don't care what you do or how you do it but you can't let them take her tomorrow," Neville urged his face growing serious and stern. "Malfoy, she's. She's not herself. You know her parents are dead now and she hasn't made any arrangements or even talked about it. I made sure to spare her the details, but it was obviously a wizard that killed them. She barely speaks, hasn't eaten, and Harry's made her miserable for admitting she's your wife. He's got his reasons to be angry with you, Gods knows he does, but she's, Malfoy she needs to get out of the hospital and go home. That's the only way she'll start to deal with things."  
"Where did this sudden faith come from that I'd be determined to help her?" There was no question about it. Draco knew he'd hand over his entire inheritance, and the Malfoy estate, as long as Scrimgeour told Percy to go to hell and leave Hermione well enough alone. However, Longbottom must have been desperate to come to him, risk his job at the Ministry to be seen in his cell.

"The first night I stayed with her after Harry and Ginny went home for the night and Ron took his Mum back to The Burrow. As incomprehensible as it was to me she trusts you, and she didn't stop begging me all night to go get you. She wanted you and no one else." Admitting that was painful, excruciating but it had to be said. Malfoy's money could be the only thing Scrimgeour listened to now. Hermione was a powerful and well-respected witch for her role in the war, but the wealthy families held the true control and force. To end it all and have it wrapped up Scrimgeour would give Percy free reign to send Hermione before the Wizengamot.

Draco said nothing to this only nodding and holding out his arms motioning for Neville to release him. Then he froze, and leveled the other man with a steely glare. "How is it that Percy's not locking you up and charging you with sedition? You let her in the Ministry, you helped me leave for the evening we were married. Shouldn't you be sharing some of the blame?"

Neville did look sheepish at this, and couldn't meet Draco's eyes. "Yes, I'm as guilty as she is, but she refuses to give the name of the Auror responsible for helping her. She wouldn't even tell them where or how you were married because she was afraid they'd use it as an excuse to charge you with intent to flee. If you could see her you'd understand that right now, disagreeing with her about anything at all isn't possible. Well, trust me you can't let her be sent here. She can't wait in a cell and go to trial."

Everything Longbottom was telling him Draco was intently listening to, and absorbing, but he couldn't let himself be distracted now. His first impulse was to sign the release papers and go directly to St. Mungo's. That would do Hermione little good tomorrow when Percy came to take her. He couldn't focus on the relief and joy he felt at knowing she was alive, that she was all right, nor could he focus on worrying about her obvious grief that was killing her inside. "Whatever, get me those papers and then I need to get some things together. Is there a way to Floo to the manor still or did the Ministry seal any and all entrances and exits except the more conventional ones?"

"I don't believe so. When they searched it after your mother fled they made sure there were no easy ways to make it to and from the manor," Neville answered him reaching out and undoing the manacles. "Aren't you going to the hospital?"

"I'll have to go the manor first and make sure it's fit to even sleep in, then I have to make an appointment with Gringotts to discuss the transfer of my inheritance. You will see to it that Scrimgeour is in his office early tomorrow?"

"You're really going to help her?" Neville asked, still not believing what he was seeing or hearing.

"Don't look so surprised Longbottom," Draco sneered, as they walked from the cell. He rubbed his wrists a few times deciding he wouldn't feel the vise of such a restraint again. "Did you think I'd let her rot in here?"

"Honestly, yes," Neville shrugged, closing the cell door and continuing up the hall with Malfoy at his side. "Not very long ago I would have been sure you'd wanted a front row seat for her ultimate downfall."

"Things change," Draco allowed as a noncommittal answer.

"Maybe people can too."

Raising an eyebrow Draco turned his head to glance sideways at Neville. "Did you almost offer me a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it."

"I wouldn't dare."

"Mrs. Malfoy, do you understand what has been stated here?" Percy asked Hermione calmly, while she gazed beyond him out the window.

"You don't have to do this," Ron snarled at his brother, sitting at Hermione's side and waiting until the last possible second to clap the manacles on her wrists.

"Ronald, even famous witches and wizards must abide by the rules and laws placed before us. Mrs.Malfoy, your answer please," Percy said again, his voice condescending and patronizing.

"She bloody knows you ugly prat," Ginny snapped, arms crossed as she stood to the side glaring at her brother. "How you can be this cruel I'll never know. Mum didn't give birth to you I'd swear it."

"Ginerva, your opinion isn't important. Now, stop your childish ranting and…"

"Mind yourself Percy," Harry warned softly. "You're speaking to my wife."

"I would think you'd be on my side here Mr. Potter. Mrs. Malfoy chose a deceitful way to solve her problems and with the help of someone of a rather devious character. I was sure I was safe in assuming that there was no love lost between you and Mr. Malfoy."

When Harry didn't answer, and shuttered his gaze to hide his thoughts, Percy returned his attention to Hermione. "We're going to leave now. You'll be given a private cell, and in the morning when you feel more up to it we'll have to try and work this out further. The more you cooperate the easier I can make this. Ronald, the restraints if you please."

"Mione' hold up your wrists. I won't make them too tight," Ron whispered, squeezing her shoulders before bending to do his task.

Hermione heard the clink of the manacles as they went into place and wondered if she would be able to stand. What would her mother think when she heard this? Your mother already knows, she's watching you right now and so is your father. Someone murdered them and instead of finding the person responsible the Ministry is taking action against you, Hermione thought bitterly. Actually it's Percy, Scrimgeour's only letting him take on the Du Marier case and they can't prove anything there.

She knew she was rambling in her mind and not making sense, so Hermione focused on standing, keeping her knees strong, and not wavering. Draco must have been released by now and he had abandoned her. Why had she ever thought he would do differently? She'd revealed their secret, and now Draco had all that he needed, his money and his freedom. Dejectedly, she walked from her room not able to meet Harry or Ginny's eyes. Molly hadn't been able to stand it any longer, and when Percy had arrived she'd let Arthur lead her away. It was probably more along the lines of the fact that Molly had some choice words for her middle child that Percy was a prat enough to use against her. Luckily the Weasley's had promised to find her the best barrister they could and with Percy telling them there was no need they'd departed.

"Mione', this will all be over before you know it," Ginny said, sniffling and reaching out to pat her arm as she drifted by.

"Ginerva, giving false hope isn't polite," Percy stated as he followed Hermione and Ron toward the door.

"Not all hope is false Weasley. Fate's been pretty generous as far as I've been concerned. Apparently, it's done my wife a favor as well."

Percy's face twisted into an even uglier scowl than most thought him capable of. "Already insinuating yourself into society, and barely a day after your rather dubious reprieve."

"Is there some law that states I'm forbidden to escort my wife home after she's been ill and hospitalized?" Draco stood blocking the doorway, but couldn't look at her yet, not until Percy was out of the room and he could find something else to distract him from ripping the man's throat out. Well, then again he'd managed to purchase another wand just that morning from Ollivander's so a simple curse would suffice. He supposed the _Cruciatus Curse _would land him back in Azkaban, and that wouldn't do now with things seemingly going his way. Maybe a few meaningful hexes, but he digressed. There was more important business at hand.

"Malfoy you're the cause of all of this." Harry rounded behind Percy and glared vengefully at his enemy. Coming closer he stood nearly nose-to-nose with Malfoy not sure if he could keep himself from resorting to hexes and a physical retaliation. "We're handling this, and Mione' doesn't need you making things worse."

"Step away from me Potter. I'm afraid you're contagious, and stupidity is an infliction I would rather not have." Bloody fool was handling it? Merlin the man was an arrogant arse and more dense than Draco had given him credit for being. "Weasley, I've discussed this matter with Scrimgeour himself and obviously there's been a misunderstanding."

"Mrs. Malfoy has committed treason. Now, it is a minor form yes, but treason all the same," Percy asserted, wondering why Malfoy looked so very smug. Probably because he was once again wearing his silk and tailored black robes with his hair freshly clipped and slicked back severely. Standing tall and superior he was every inch the heir of the manor again and Percy wanted to wipe the maddening smirk off of his face.

"This is from Scrimgeour personally absolving Mrs. Malfoy of any wrong doing. Now, kindly remove those restraints or will you disobey a direct order from the Minister?" Draco kept his gaze trained on Percy as the conceited bastard read the parchment that Draco had handed him. It was satisfying to see the rage and hatred building up inside of him, contorting his rigid features and igniting in his eyes. "The Du Mariers are wealthy and well known. However, if you chance to read your history you will see that the Malfoy name precedes the Du Marier's by at least three centuries."

Ron didn't wait for Percy to answer and readily removed the manacles, pocketing the rotten things in his robes, and breathing a sigh of relief. For once he didn't care that Malfoy was flaunting his Pureblooded status or using his money for a means to an end. At least he was doing the noble thing and helping Hermione. "Come on Mione'," Ron said, comfortingly. "Harry and Ginny will take you home."

"Did you misunderstand me?" Draco turned a sharp look of displeasure upon Ron. "I said I've come to take my wife home, with me."

"This is insane," Harry snapped, impatiently. "Malfoy what are you playing at? Now it's all fine and decent I suppose that you've helped her today, but…"

"Potter the very sound of your voice is beginning to annoy me," Draco warned, as a muttering Percy stalked past him, making certain to push him into the edge of the doorway as he went. Finally free of the man who he considered the root of his problems Draco let his gaze rest on Hermione for the first time.

She was pale, almost deathly so, and the bruises on her neck were harsh and painful to look at. Her eyes were staring at him, fathomless as though she didn't truly believe what she was seeing. Though he doubted it very much, if the Ministry were to ever find the people responsible for hurting her he'd make certain they met their deaths discreetly before going to trial. Taking a deep breath to give himself a moment to find his voice he extended a hand out to her. "Hermione, it's time to go."

For a second Hermione didn't move, but then slowly she stepped away from Ron and took the hand offered. He'd come back for her, and though she was surprised, and nearly on the verge of tears, she didn't want to appear pathetic or make him wish he'd left her behind. His fingers closed over hers securely and she welcomed the strength it gave her, that small gesture. Taking her free hand to adjust her robes she felt Draco give her a gentle tug in the direction of the door.

Not offering another word to any of her friends Hermione kept walking, letting Draco lead her down the winding halls of the hospital. Neither spoke as they continued, and she wondered if he was merely going to help her back to her flat, and then be on his way. She didn't want to ask and didn't have the courage to. She simply followed him until they were at the entrance. Eyes, both disapproving and curious bore into them as they walked down the front steps, and to Hermione's, surprise toward a waiting carriage. She did turn a questioning glance to Draco then, while a small elf hurriedly opened the door for them and placed a stepping block beside it.

"The Ministry made it impossible to Floo to or from the manor. You're in no condition to Apparate so, this will have to do," Draco said standing aside and helping her step up into the conveyance.

Hermione stepped inside and took a seat, finding the interior very rich and expensively decorated. As with any carriage there was an old Victorian feel about it and the golden trim around the seats, and plush green fabric, added to the style. Draco appeared sitting next to her, waving the elf ahead, and soon they were moving the carriage jostling over the uneven streets.

More silence followed before the wave of anguish engulfed her. Tears that Hermione had held back since the night she was told of her parent's brutal death readily flooded her eyes and sobs that she couldn't control shook her entire frame. She sounded horrible, choking and sputtering while she tried to bite back the wails torn from her throat. Mortified that she was unable to manage herself any better Hermione knew Draco would think she was weak and pitiful. What did that matter? Draco was probably going to be disgusted with her now at her behavior, and she had revealed their marriage before he had wanted to most likely.

Her jumbled thoughts and aching body kept Hermione from realizing for a time that Draco had drawn her up into his arms and settled her on his lap. Rocking her as if she were a child Hermione became aware finally that he was there as she had wanted all of those days before. Clutching at him desperately she cried and he said nothing letting her release all of the emotions she'd suppressed. After what seemed like hours she quieted and slumped into his chest, limp and weary. The potions given to her were beginning to wear off, and the slashing wound in her side began to throb. It was nothing compared to the pain of knowing she would have to face the truth. Her parents were gone, dead, and she would have to properly bury them and see to arrangements that she was far from ready to make. "Are you going to take me home?" Hermione asked after a time, suppressing an exhausted yawn.

"Yes, and I would like it if you would sleep. Did they give you any potions to take with you?" Hermione had never heard him speak so softly before, and it soothed her more, making her eyelids grow heavier.

"No, but there are some spells…" she whispered, but changed the subject abruptly. "It's not far to Diagon Alley, just a couple of hours. I can sleep when I get home."

"It's a good deal farther to Malfoy Manor and I intend for you to rest when we get there as well." She felt Draco lean down and adjust her so he could press a kiss to her temple. "Where did you think I was taking you?"

Draco had mentioned the manor hadn't he, she mused and the weight and pain lifted somewhat. Even the sharp throb in her side eased a little, and she curled contentedly against him. "Nowhere, just home," Hermione sighed, and was asleep seconds later.


	18. Going Home

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 18

Going Home

"You just bloody let him walk out of the hospital with her," Harry snapped, not having touched the dinner on the plate before him.

"What did you want me to do Harry?" Ron sighed, not having the same difficulty in eating as his friend and brother-in-law. "He's her husband, and the old laws that haven't been repealed yet state she goes where he goes."

"Neville said she's been trying to divorce him secretly. Why did she all of a sudden own up to this now?" Harry still couldn't believe it and refused to even consider that Hermione might have willingly wanted to leave with Malfoy that day.

"Neville also said that she told him not to worry about it recently, and since Malfoy's things were found upstairs in Hermione's flat I'm assuming they were living together in every respect," Ron said through a mouthful of potatoes. "You think I like the idea any better than you do? The very thought of Malfoy looking at Mione' let alone touching her in any way repulses me. Still, the sum of galleons he threw at the Ministry must have put a decent sized hole in his inheritance."

"That means what exactly?" Harry said, finally spearing a plump piece of chicken, but still not eating. "Like always he used money to justify his behavior."

"That money kept Hermione out of trouble Harry," Ginny pointed out, still gazing thoughtfully at her plate.

"One good deed doesn't overshadow the numerous crimes he's committed." Finally taking a bite of the chicken, but finding no taste in it, Harry immediately grabbed his glass of water and gulped it down. "It's all probably a scheme. He's trying to make Mione' think he cares or something. He'll turn on her and she'll regret it."

"He loves her," George stated quietly from the other end of the table, having listened to Harry's account of Malfoy's appearance at St. Mungo's earlier that day. "Well, as much as Malfoy can love someone."

"Bollocks!" Harry snarled, slamming his glass down and upsetting several other plates. "Malfoy loves himself and his money."

"Money, which he parted with, the moment he knew Hermione was going to be taken to the Ministry," Fred pointed out in an effort to support his twin's claim. "Come on Harry, even you have to admit how strange it was that Malfoy came to us at all about those threats. Then George said when he found her that night in her shop he looked almost sick and wouldn't hardly let anyone near her."

"I think she loves him too," Ginny stated, raising her gaze to meet her husband's furious green eyes. "She wouldn't have just walked away with him if she didn't. Mione's stubborn and even Malfoy couldn't make her do something she didn't want to."

"You're all fucking nutters!" Harry shouted, coming to his feet almost overturning his chair.

"Language!" Molly Weasley admonished from the other end of the table, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. "Ginny and George might be right, but for now we need to focus on what Hermione needs, and that is comfort and understanding. If after her parents are laid to rest and she's mourned them a bit you still think her situation with that Malfoy boy isn't safe discuss it then."

"Harry, I think Molly's right," Arthur said quietly, trying to remain unaffected by the younger man's outburst. "Our Mione needs some time to sort this all out and Ginny's right in saying that if she hadn't wanted to go with him she wouldn't have. She's got a right good head on her shoulders she does."

"Does everyone remember we are talking about Draco Malfoy! His father was a proclaimed Death Eater that died in an escape attempt from Azkaban. His mother is in hiding probably taking secrets to her grave that could have ended the war sooner. Merlin, does no one remember that he allowed Hogwarts to be attacked and nearly killed the professor!" Harry raked a hand through his dark and hair unable to believe what he was hearing. His family, the only family he had ever really known and trusted was making excuses for his greatest enemy.

"You didn't see him Harry," George asserted again. "All I'm saying is that somewhere along the way he's developed feelings for her, and if his reactions from finding her that night are any indication I wouldn't advise challenging him right now."

"She's blind and she's let herself believe that he's changed, that he has any decency left."

"Then if he's so rotten and evil still, why did he toss over half of his inheritance to the Ministry after two hours in Scrimgeour's office?" Ron asked, eating despite the conflict surrounding him. After all he'd had a seriously depressing day with Percy scowling and ordering everyone around in his anger at being bested by Malfoy. Secretly, Ron was pleased that someone had finally put Percy in his place, and if it had to be Malfoy well, that was all right this time.

"Like I said, money is all he knows how to use to fix and find solutions to his problems," Harry said, grudgingly thinking to sit again and finish the dinner. Molly had gone to so much trouble as always and he didn't want to appear anymore rude than he already had been.

"Apparently from what I was told when I got to the Ministry this morning there was yelling Harry, lots of it, and mostly from Malfoy," Ron stated, after taking a long drink from his glass. "Scrimgeour's mood wasn't any better than Percy's after Malfoy left, and he had Percy file the Du Marier case elsewhere. He told him to find something else to focus on and then he had Neville returned Hermione's marriage certificate to the public records."  
"Scrimgeour probably made him own up to his crimes and Malfoy didn't like hearing…"

"Malfoy threatened Scrimgeour that he would make certain the other Pureblood families withdrew their support from the Ministry, monetary support that is. Now, Scrimgeour, knowing the value of galleon just like anyone else of course, can't have that," Ron explained.

"Malfoy's a criminal. He's got nothing to stand on reputation wise," Harry argued settling back down in his seat.

"Those wealthy Purebloods stick together Harry. They might not agree that he's taken a Muggle-Born for a wife, but they'd jump at the opportunity to spurn the Ministry. Scrimgeour knows this, and so does Malfoy," Ron assured his friend with a raised brow.

"Do you think he took her back to the shop or that manor of his?" Ginny asked, sensing Harry's tension growing by the second. He rarely got angry now, the war being over he'd been able to push aside some of his darker emotions, but where Malfoy was concerned the hatred, the loathing was so intense it frightened her at times.

"That manor," Harry grunted. "Thinks he'll hide her away and no one can make her see how terribly insane she is for being with him."

"The manor actually would be safer," Ron mused, biting his lower lip, deep in thought. "The shop is too open to the public and easily accessible. Malfoy'd unleash some kind of creature on anyone I'm sure that darkened his gates without his permission."

"Do you think we ought to go tomorrow and make certain she's all right?" Ginny asked, stealing a glance beneath her lashes at Harry to gauge his response.

"I think that would be a good idea," Arthur said, encouragingly.

"Ginny, I forbid you to go anywhere near that bastard," Harry said, tersely. "Let Ron and the twins delude themselves if they want but…."  
"Harry Potter, did you just forbid me to go and see my friend?" Ginny asked her voice low, but angry.

"Malfoy is your friend? Since when?"  
"Not Malfoy you dense git!" she cried standing as he had done earlier. "Hermione. If Mione's at the manor then I want to go and see for myself that she's okay. I can maybe help her make arrangements for her parents."

"I don't want you near Malfoy."

"Well I'm afraid that it is his home too, so unfortunately, that will be difficult to avoid."

"Gin, Fred and I'll go with you. Will that make you feel better Harry?" George offered, having already decided whether his brother-in-law agreed or not he'd check in on Hermione anyways.

"No it would not!" Harry roared slamming a fist down on the table upsetting more plates again. "What would make me feel better is to not have everyone gloss over Malfoy's transgressions like nothing has happened. He'll make her miserable you all know that!"

"Harry calm down. Now we know how you feel," Ron started, standing up and walking over to place a calming hand on the other man's shoulder.

"I don't think so, because if you did you wouldn't have let him take her this morning. You would have found a way to keep him locked up at the Ministry, and you wouldn't be defending him now!" Harry didn't wait for any response, but he stalked from the room intending to Apparate to the flat he shared with Ginny and wait for her to come home later.

The night had grown very late when their carriage finally made it safely to the manor. It wasn't a warm homecoming. No one was waiting for them except two other house elves who had never left after his mother had fled. Draco suspected that there were others hiding, but hadn't seen any evidence to support the theory. They were too afraid _Master Lucius_ would come back and punish them for deserting their family. Draco knew Hermione would treat him to a sound lecture about keeping them so he devised a payment plan for them. Tossing a few knuts at the little things would be easier than listening to his wife rant at him about the travesty of keeping them without pay. He loved debating with her, but he was sick to death of S.P.E.W and it had only caused her more grief than it was worth. He wanted to forget the whole elvish incident had ever taken place.

To his relief Hermione slept the entire way, only waking when they'd stopped to eat and rest for a bit. She hadn't spoken since that morning and Draco let her have her way, but realized that Neville was right she wasn't herself. To her credit Hermione had walked out of the hospital at his side, head held high, and no indication that she was ready to dissolve into tears at any moment. Draco was actually relieved when she starting crying, knowing that at least in some form she was letting go of some of the grief she must be feeling. Hermione had loved her parents, and obviously they had loved her. It was going to be a difficult transition for her and it didn't help to know that a wizard had murdered them.

This hadn't been how he'd envisioned bringing her home, far from it. The night before when Draco Apparated to the manor he'd been greeted to more cobwebs and vermin than he'd ever encountered. Then, he had to coax the timid little elves from their hiding places and to make matters worse, with no way to Floo, there wasn't any easy access to obtaining clothing and other necessities. Forced to raid his father's closets that had been surprisingly left intact by the Ministry after their search, Draco had hated every minute in the other man's shoes so to speak. While waiting for Scrimgeour to make his appearance in his office Draco made certain to stop in Madam Malkin's so that once he shed the dark robes tonight he could burn them.

Tomorrow Hermione would want to go and retrieve some of her things, but Draco managed to pack a few simple odds and ends he knew she would need with Neville's help. Oddly, the simpering Longbottom had developed more of a backbone since his school years, and Draco knew he was disappointed he would miss the look on Percy's face when Hermione would be released from his custody. It had been rather gratifying.

"Hermione," he whispered shaking her gently afraid that any movement whatsoever would cause her pain. He hated waking her, but trying to carry her asleep from the carriage would be too awkward and could her hurt her more.

"Hmm," Hermione murmured, stifling a small yawn with the back of her hand. Hermione was dreaming again, that Draco had come and kept Percy from taking her away. They were going home, to his home and everything was going to be all right now. Rousing herself she almost sighed with joy to see that it wasn't a dream at all. It was true, he had meant everything he'd said to her about wanting her. He wouldn't have defied Percy like that and brought her to his manor if he didn't.

"We're home now. Do you think you can stand? You've been curled up like this for awhile?" he asked, helping her scoot over in the seat next to him and stretch her legs.

"Yes, those spells we did earlier haven't worn off yet. I'm not in much pain," Hermione assured him, nearly brought to tears by how concerned he sounded. Part of her hated looking weak and wounded in his eyes, but another part absorbed the fact that Draco genuinely cared and wasn't afraid to express that presently.

The carriage halted, and the elf from earlier bounced before them after opening the door. Draco stepped down first welcoming the rush of feeling back into his legs, and stretching a bit himself. Gingerly, Hermione followed not surprised when he was immediately there, grasping her waist and helping her down to the ground. The elf scurried behind them to put the carriage away for the evening, and already the front doors were opening, two other elves appearing before them.

"Master Draco, room all ready," the smallest one, a female said, but cowered as though expecting to be punished at any moment. "Mistress' room ready too."

Hermione felt her stomach drop and she let go of Draco's hand. Separate rooms. So she had misread him after all. How could she have let herself be so foolish and heartsick?

"Mistress Hermione doesn't need a room of her own," Draco said evenly, and took hold of Hermione's hand again, unsure of why she'd suddenly shrank from his touch as though he were poison.

"But Master Draco, Master Lucius and Mistress Narcissa," the other elf started to say timidly. "They request separate rooms, always."

"Mistress Hermione will be sharing my room so go and move her things," Draco ordered, but not harshly, afraid to upset Hermione with an argument over treatment of elves.

"Will Mistress need help bathing and dressing?" the female elf asked shyly, but she had recognized her new mistress at once. This was the kind Muggle witch who helped house elves. She liked her immediately.

"No thank you," Hermione whispered, letting Draco lead her as he had before, toward the winding staircase at the base of the hall.

There was a musty, dank odor in the air, but that was to be expected. The manor had been closed since Draco's mother's disappearance three years ago. The house elves had begun the task of cleaning Hermione could tell. There wasn't any dust on the banister as she glided up the stairs behind her husband. From what little she could see the hall was very large and empty with most of the contents sold at auction long ago. She remembered reading that only Lucius' things hadn't been touched in his bedchamber. Something about darkness and evil probably permeating everything he touched so it wasn't worth purchasing.

It wasn't a long walk to their room and Hermione was thankful for it. She was still weary, and for some reason traveling had always made her tired. They had been riding for hours on end and it felt good to be on her two feet again.

"There's a bathroom right over there and I'm guessing you'll want to take a shower or something," Draco said, ripping off his robe viciously. He threw it on the ground and waved his hand before the fireplace, a bright glowing fire coming to life a second later. To her surprise he took the finely tailored garment and tossed it angrily into the fire watching it sparkle and burn for a time before turning to her. "Will you need some help or are you almost healed?"

"I'll be fine," Hermione whispered taking her own robe off and neatly laying it over the back of a chair. "I thought they sold everything?" she asked peering around to see a rather large bed complete with silken sheets and satin pillows. The chair she had placed her robe on was very old as well, with velvet upholstery.

"Almost everything. Some things were left in the bedrooms. No one wanted to buy anything touched by an evil Malfoy," he sneered, but quickly recovered his face losing its angry cast.

"I'm sorry." It was all Hermione could think of at the moment to say. Silently she removed her blouse and pants as she walked toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

As Hermione entered there was a long full-length mirror that hung on the wall encrusted in gold and silver cherubs and dragons around the glass. That was when she saw how ugly her body was now. The bruises on her neck were hideous, but the gash in her side would still need a bit more time to heal and fade. There were scratches that crisscrossed her belly and thighs and she remembered when they had been clawing at her how she had feared they would rape her. Draco would certainly not have wanted her then, she thought.

With a drawn out sigh she filled the tub deciding against a shower, and removed her undergarments. Finding some random scents, mostly masculine, she cleansed herself quickly afraid that Draco would come inside and see how repulsive she looked. To her dismay she heard the door creaking open behind her and without any bubbles to mask her form the clear water left nothing to the imagination. "I'll be out in a moment," she called over her shoulder, unable to meet his gaze.

"There's no hurry, stay in there awhile. It might relax you," Draco said, leaning back against the sink adjacent the massive tub.

He had rid himself completely of his prior clothing now lounging in a simple robe that hung open and pajama bottoms. Though they were silk, like probably everything else in his wardrobe they looked too casual to be something he owned. Standing there in his own domain he looked perfect, unscarred, and handsome. Hermione decided he was nice-looking since he'd given up scowling and smirking at her all of the time, although certain smirks were appealing.

Bunching her shoulders Hermione turned away and tried to cover herself. She felt naked in more ways than one. She was in Draco's home now and the situation was reversed, she was indebted to him. Glancing once out of the corner of her eyes she saw him studying her shrewdly, but not smiling. He probably thought she was as hideous as she knew herself to be. Had he seen the scratches and bruises beneath the water?  
"I'm going to kill who ever did that to you," he whispered with a dark edge lacing his words.

"What?" Hermione twisted her head to see Draco's expression, which had grown darker and more menacing. "You've just gotten released from prison, and your service to the Minsitry. Don't you suppose you shouldn't be thinking of ways to end up right back where you started?"

"You're trying to hide what they did and I'll see for myself now or I can wait until you're ready for bed. Either way I want to know that you're really healing."

Hermione sunk farther into the water having hoped to be fully clothed before encountering him again. Odd, but she'd never cared about what she looked like, how her body was shaped, or if it was striking before. Since she'd let Draco into her life however, she'd become a bit more attentive to such things as her hair and which article of clothing to wear. She'd never been sloppy but lately she'd made an extra effort to appear more attractive.

Hermione glared back at him tears threatening her again. This was difficult for her, couldn't he see that? "I thought you said to relax?"

"So I did," Draco amended, and appearing outwardly at ease he kept his distance only his clenched jaw betraying his true mood.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare?" She was hugging her knees to her chest and the water had started to get a little cold. If he never saw her again Hermione would be fine with that.

"I'm not going to fight with you, not tonight." Sighing, Draco left her in peace and she waited to hear him moving about in the bedroom.

Slowly Hermione drew herself up hating how stiff her muscles were and how drained of energy she seemed. Wrapping a nearby towel around her she stepped out carefully wincing when she turned and her side burned painfully. Pausing she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror again, and undid the knot in the towel, morbidly wanting to see how bad the damage was. The bruises and red marks glared back at her as they had earlier and she was even more certain the gash on her right side would leave a scar. Sometimes Muggle weapons, knives, were more damaging than hexes and curses.

"You're certain they couldn't have done anymore for you?"

Jumping and drawing the towel around her again Hermione glared at him over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, but even healers can't always mend the skin flawlessly."

Trying to push past him, Draco caught her arm gently but firmly. "That's not what I meant and you know that. Longbottom helped me get some of your things from the flat. I thought you'd feel more comfortable sleeping in your own gowns or pajamas or something."

Silently, Hermione took the offered garment, and easily pulled away from him again, walking into the bedroom. Hurriedly she dropped the towel and slipped into the nightgown feeing somewhat better having something familiar around her even if it was only clothing. There was a chill in the air and she was drawn to the warmth from the fire walking over and splaying her hands out before the flames.

"You're probably not going to want to talk about this, but we'll need to see about taking care of your parents in the morning. Longbottom told me you hadn't starting thinking about any arrangements yet." Draco didn't know where to begin with her, and after seeing, if but briefly, the rest of the marks on her body he couldn't trust himself to discuss that subject with her calmly.

"I'll take care of it myself," Hermione said in a clipped tone, her eyes never leaving the dancing flames.

"Stop it," Draco snapped before he could help himself. "I let you do this before, keep everything inside and not show how you truly felt after the search, but not this time." He was at her side in a few steps a hand resting on her shoulder. "Your parents died, we have to bury them, and I'll take you wherever you need to go tomorrow."

"Did you see what they did to me?"

Draco knew she meant her attackers but had hoped not to broach that subject anymore tonight. "Yes, but I don't want to talk about that now. We should focus on your parents and…"

"Because they're ugly, the bruises the scars. I guess I'm lucky they didn't do anything else," Hermione trailed off her hands falling to her sides.

Drawing in a sharp breath Draco turned her to face him more abruptly than he'd intended. "Anything else?" He was remembering the bruises on top of her thighs and lower stomach. Longbottom surely would have warned him if Hermione had been violated any further.

"You most likely wouldn't have come to the hospital if they had raped me," Hermione shrugged, still looking to the side, into the fire.

Sighing with relief that she hadn't been hurt in such a manner Draco had to remember to not lose his temper no matter how infuriating she attempted to be. "I'm not going to even ask you why you'd think I wouldn't have found a way to divert the Ministry's attention, but that's beside the point. Let's get some rest and we'll decide what needs to be done in the morning."

"You said a record at the Ministry would be a blot on your wife's reputation. Wouldn't rape be the same thing?"

"That is taken out of context, and I don't really want to discuss this…"

"Why not, because your answer might be too truthful, too damning for you?"

"This isn't how I wanted things to go tonight. You need your rest and tomorrow we'll sort out what needs to be done."

"I need to be alone," Hermione snapped, finally meeting his eyes. "Maybe I should take that room the elves made up for me." She didn't know where her words were coming from and deep down she rationally knew she wasn't making any sense. How Draco had managed to convince Scrimgeour to release her without additional questioning was a mystery, but somehow he had and instead of giving in to the urge to throw herself in his arms she was making the situation worse.

A muscle jerked furiously in cheek, and Draco let go of her stepping away. "Would you rather be at that underground hovel with the Weasleys? Are you that sorry you told everyone you married me then?"

"No," Hermione whimpered, padding over to the bed and crawling between the sheets, but sitting up hugging her knees. "I'm not sorry I told them."

She felt him rather than saw him slip in beside her noiselessly. "Nothing short of my death could have kept me from coming to the hospital for you. After four days of thinking you were dead I would've dragged you to the manor with me if you had tried to leave with the Weasleys."

Lying flat on his back Draco said nothing more, waiting to hear if she would respond. Hermione slid down into the bed barely touching him. "I told you I'd choose you, remember."

Until she'd spoken Draco didn't grasp how much he had needed to hear those words. Today she had walked away from everyone she'd been afraid would desert her and she had walked away with him. "I thought as intelligent as you are you wouldn't let a few scars mean anything to you. Surely you know they wouldn't matter to the people that love you."

In her heart Hermione had suspected, but hearing the words, even in such a roundabout way set her free somehow. She didn't have to hide and be brave all of the time. She didn't have to have all of the answers or look for them. Rolling to her side, thankfully her left, she could barely discern his face in the dark. "I should also know when to let the people I love help me, and not push them away." Instinctively she knew she couldn't openly say the words yet. Draco wasn't ready to accept it so freely.

Curling up against his side as she had done for some many nights she welcomed the arms that came about her letting the tears silently fall again. "I told my father terrible things, all of the things you said and did in school, that you went to prison. He would've hated you, but after today I think you might have started to earn his trust. I know they were Muggle but you might have liked my parents, maybe."

At that moment Draco would've welcomed the entire Granger family tree Muggle or not. Having her safe and finally secure in the knowledge that undoubtedly, without question he had her loyalty and love, was enough to make Muggles tolerable if it pleased her. Though, he'd have to grit his teeth before allowing them inside the manor, but Hermione didn't need to know that. Muggle in-laws, well they would have been more bearable than his own parents might have been to her.

Draco still wondered what his mother would say, but her opinion on the subject didn't truly matter much. She'd never taken an interest in him until it was almost too late and she'd managed to coerce Snape into his vow. The choices he'd made had bettered his life and if she refused to see it in that respect, that was her misfortune.

"Why did you think I was dead?" Hermione asked raising her head slightly.

"Percy," he muttered with obvious disgust. "The night you were found he thought he could force me to confess. I think he suspected I was innocent but couldn't resist the opportunity to try and prove otherwise. After awhile he finally got tired of me ignoring him and asking about your condition and told me you'd gotten worse at St. Mungo's. He then led me to believe you hadn't survived."

"I should have told them sooner." Biting her lower lip, Hermione was unable to stop the flow of tears that seemed endless now. There was so much to grieve for, her parents, the relationships with her friends that were changed forever. "You wouldn't have had to gone back. It couldn't have been easy."

"Let's leave it that there are no more secrets and we're home where we belong. As for the Ministry I doubt Scrimgeour will be bothering either of us for quite some time, most likely never," Draco assured he,r not wanting to remember those days of loneliness and grief. There had been too many misunderstandings and allowing himself to admit the depths of his feelings was a new experience. It was refreshing and terrifying all at once. Maybe that was what his father had feared the most, emotions? They didn't make you weak, they made you strong, and as along as those around him felt nothing, they were nothing, empty and lifeless. They weren't a threat to him.

"I'm not even going to ask how you were able to get Scrimgeour to simply drop the case against me or got him to write whatever was in that note to Percy." She leaned over and pressed her lips to his softy. "Thank you."

"Prison just didn't suit you, and I would have had to bribe Longbottom to help you escape. Living a life on the run wouldn't have appealed to either of us," Draco said simply, tucking a stray curl behind her ear that had fallen from the knot on top of her head.

"You aren't going to tell anyone that Neville was involved before are you?"

"I should. He should share the blame, but," Draco sighed, having decided that as long as she was talking and returning to him somewhat he shouldn't press any other issues. "He's proven helpful. I'm not giving you permission to have him to tea, but he's not as dimwitted as he was when we were younger. I'll give him credit where it's due."

Nodding, that was the best Hermione would get as far as a compliment about any of her friends from her husband. There were years of bad blood and anger behind them that would take time to sort through, and some things might never be forgotten. Feeling more at ease she put her head back down on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "We'll have to go to Neath tomorrow. It will be all Muggle until we speak with the barrister. He's handled our family's affairs and such for years and he knows about my connection to the Wizarding World. Can you endure it for that long?"

"Let's worry about making the arrangements and not so much who we're dealing with to make them." Truth be told an entire day surrounded by the filthy beasts didn't set well, but it was a necessary evil. He knew his prejudices were one-sided and selective, but he didn't see his wife as a Muggle. Who could after she'd graduated with more pomp and circumstance than any witch or wizard to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts?

"Fair enough," Hermione yawned softly, and drifted to sleep sensing that perhaps she could deal with the ordeal to come. Burying her parents, seeing them in deathly repose would be the most difficult thing she had ever done, but with her husband at her side she could stand it.


	19. Uncomfortable Goodbyes

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 19

Uncomfortable Goodbyes

"There's of course cremation. Families sometimes like to spread their loved one's ashes over their favorite piece of land or display them in an ornamental urn," the proprietor of the funeral parlor remarked with a serene and placating smile.

Suddenly an image of two urns underneath the Malfoy family crest on the mantle came to Hermione, and she couldn't help but think how out of sorts such a sight would be. The manor itself would probably magically implode if the remains of two Muggles were stored for too long beneath its roof. Raising weary eyes to the eager salesman, for that's what he was really and making a mint at what he did selling the more ornate coffins and urns that he was spouting on and on about, she answered him quietly. "Like I've said, I think three times, two caskets, the white with gold trim. Satin inside and plush cushions."

"Yes, but the urns…"

"My wife made her decision," Draco snapped impatiently. Dealing with over zealous Muggles was difficult enough. Having to deal with either deaf or extremely ignorant ones was beyond aggravating.

"Yes, but…"

"Mr. Rafferty please, just the two caskets and a quiet service at the local chapel. My parents were patrons there and the vicar has promised to say a few words at the gravesite." Draco was already standing, and Hermione was grateful for the rude gesture of simply leaving the man talking to thin air and stood as well. "Thank you."

Having had a decent night's sleep Hermione was more sure in her steps and the pain was becoming a memory. They strode hurriedly from the parlor and back onto the streets of the town near her parent's estate. She noticed Draco turning his nose up in revulsion more than once at the honking cars, smoke and exhaust that they emanated, but to his credit he hadn't outwardly complained much, at least not since that morning before they had left the manor.

Reacquiring his money and means Draco automatically resumed dressing and grooming himself to the hilt as always, but wearing long flowing robes while walking Muggle streets simply wasn't done. In the end he let her win that fight only because Hermione knew he was afraid of upsetting her. She didn't care about the small advantage she had in that respect, and d dressed herself in a casual black skirt white blouse and black jacket.

"Well, you've been to see the vicar and that charlatan at the parlor, so do you suppose we could wrap this up with that barrister of yours Hetherington?" Draco asked, his impatience with the day finally beginning to show.

"Yes, he's meeting us at the estate. You know, things would have been easier if Aunt June hadn't decided to leave us her money I think." Hermione sighed, and hailed a driver to take them into the country. "It's only brought more aggravation than anything else."

"You didn't make out so terrible for inheriting from that eccentric aunt of yours," Draco said, somewhat defensively.

Hermione crawled into the back of the car and gave the indifferent driver directions to her parent's home. Patiently she waited for Draco to follow, and he did, but obviously disgusted that he would be traveling in a Muggle conveyance. "Well, I didn't put it to very good use or so you've told me. Starting S.P.E.W. and then the shop to mask the organization."

"Though that's true I'm not sorry she left you the money and the terms attached." Draco turned to frown at her, angling for her to catch his true meaning.

With small sigh Hermione reached out and took his hand, leaning back into the seat. "I suppose not, but I'm dreading the terms of the will my parents left. They had to follow June's instructions to the letter even in the event of their deaths."

"You suppose not?" he said trying to maintain a mild stance of aggravation but squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Do you really think that aunt of yours would have gone so far as to make anymore outlandish requests?"

"Honestly, I think that woman was capable of anything."

They'd held the service quietly with a few local friends in attendance. The Weasley family had come, and even Harry had stood at Ginny's side. When the vicar finished, and took his leave, along with the majority of the mourners, Molly and Arthur came and hugged Hermione, each whispering reassurances.

"We've always thought of you as a daughter, really expected you to marry into the family someday," Arthur said, but felt a cold pair of grey eyes glaring into his skull. Realizing what he had said in front of the girl's husband he coughed once, and straightened extending a hand to Draco. "Thank you, for helping Hermione. My wife and I weren't sure how we could find a way to solve the matter with Percy. He's become obsessed with his job I'm afraid."

Draco studied the elder man and contemplated not taking the proffered hand. It didn't matter that he had always thought in school that Hermione would someday breed an abnormal amount of Weasels with Ron, but having her as his wife and listening to the father of the other man didn't set well. However, the day was difficult enough for Hermione so rather than make a spectacle he shook Arthur's hand and nodded.

"Truly, thank you," Molly Weasley whispered bravely reaching out to pat Draco's arm. "I know there's been a lot to pass before us all, your father's hatred of our family was well known, but I would like to think we could put some things behind us."

They were doing this for Hermione's benefit, and Draco knew it, but there wasn't any harm in playing along, so he nodded again. His wife was shivering at his side, and the snow that had starting falling halfway through the service was steadily blanketing the ground. When Arthur released him and took his wife's arm Draco turned to ask Hermione if she was ready to leave when Harry, Ginny, and Ron strode forward. Immediately he stiffened and prepared for the onslaught. They weren't going to let it pass that he had simply walked away with their friend that day at the hospital. He wasn't however, going to let them resort to a quarrel on today of all days.

"Malfoy," Ron acknowledge politely. "Mione' we're so sorry," he whispered and immediately drew her close for a hug and to kiss her cheek.

Fighting back a stab of jealously Draco gave his attention to Harry and Ginny each wearing distinctly different expressions. Harry looked ready to openly declare war and Ginny was studying him as though it were a test, make one error or remark that could upset Hermione and he would fail miserably. "Thank you for coming. It meant a lot to Hermione," Draco said evenly, knowing that civility would be better here than outright disrespect.

"Did you think we wouldn't be here? She's our friend and has been for a good number of years," Harry retorted, his own spine stiffening and his green eyes already flashing. "You've fooled her for the time being but eventually she'll see you for the bastard you are and come back to us where she'll always be welcome."  
Unconsciously Draco's fingers curled around his wand shrunken to fit in the pocket of his trousers as again his wife had denied him the right to wear his robes. "Not here and not today Potter."

"Malfoy's right," Ginny said softly. "We're here for Hermione. The both of you can duel and hex one another some other time."

Having stepped away from Hermione Ron sighed hearing Harry's immediate attempt to bait Malfoy into a fight. He would have liked nothing better than to hex or curse the smug prat himself, but upsetting Hermione simply couldn't be done today. "Let's not be hasty Harry. Gin's right, there's time enough to reopen old wounds later. Mione, if you need anything never hesitate to ask," Ron told her, gently squeezing her shoulder before following his parents away.

"Ginny, Harry, thank you for coming," Hermione finally spoke, afraid that if she didn't Harry would continue to taunt her husband.

"I would have come to see you sooner, but I was detained a bit," Ginny remarked, and threw a scathing glare over her shoulder at Harry while embracing Hermione.

"No, don't be sorry. That manor's a mess really, and I haven't been to the shop to close up or move my things," Hermione explained, pulling away to brush a few more tears from her cheeks. A few more minutes and she could Apparate home with Draco. Just a few more minutes and everyone would leave and it would all be over.

"I don't know what to say Hermione," Harry whispered, hugging her tightly and she knew he understood more than anyone that day what she was feeling. He'd lost both of his parents in a violent attack and he knew the pain of being an orphan.

"Thank you for coming," she whispered back, holding him just as fiercely. "I know we've been at odds, but I really needed you here today."

"I'm always here for you Mione'. Even if the choices you make sometimes confuse me to know end," Harry said dryly, and unable to refrain from casting a dark glance in Draco's direction.

Fred and George came next after Ginny and Harry walked away, and to her relief they were the last. Waiting patiently for the area around them to grow quiet and sparse Hermione walked over to the twin caskets poised to be lowered into the ground. She brought her fingers to her lips and then placed them over each one lingeringly before turning back to Draco and nodding silently. Scanning the landscape once more to make certain they wouldn't be noticed Draco took her hands in his when he was satisfied at finding no one observing them and Apparated them home.

There wasn't anything else to do. The day before they'd transferred the Muggle funds left behind by the Grangers into galleons and various accounts at Gringotts. Luckily, there hadn't been too many surprises in the will and the only strange part was that Hermione's money couldn't be transferred upon her death to her surviving husband. Again, Aunt June was strict on the matter that only Hermione's children benefit or if she never produced a child then the money would go to charity of her choice.

"That being the case, so you don't throw more good money after bad to those elves I'll have to make certain you produce children," Draco had remarked after hearing the barrister explain the terms.

"Eager are you?" she teased back, smiling for the first time. "Thinking I'll be departing this earth so soon and might leave it all to the elves if I'm not a mother?"

The moment of humor had disappeared quickly and Draco shook his head. "Don't talk like that." He'd said nothing else, but Hermione wisely realized how terrible it sounded in hindsight.

Recalling the brief conversation just a day before Hermione watched Draco walk off in the direction of the kitchens to instruct the elves as to what to prepare for dinner. He made no mistake that he was much happier having his more extravagant meals and wines than her meager attempts at cooking. Frankly, though she'd never admit to it, the last two days had been rather nice. She hadn't lifted a finger for a thing, and each meal was meticulously prepared. Knowing the elves, Franny and Auggy, were receiving wages made her feel better, not good, but better about having to rely on them for certain needs.

Upstairs Hermione looked at the small clock near the bed seeing it read around five in the afternoon. Still, in the same place she'd left it was the family album that she had retrieved from her parents' house, and sitting next to it purring loudly was Crookshanks. The furry beast had been living with her parents since school ended, having been more content to lounge in front of the sunroom window box than travel or research with Hermione. He didn't seem to have any trouble adapting to the manor however, having claimed the upstairs master bedroom as his own, and Draco surprisingly was lenient enough to overlook the stray cat hair that had accumulated on the bedcovers.

That was also infuriating. At first Hermione didn't care that Draco let her win every small skirmish since bringing her to the manor. Even at dinner he relented to whatever she wanted to eat, save for today, but she suspected he'd be up in a moment to ask if what he was having prepared suited her. He was treating her like a china doll about to crumble into a million pieces as the first harsh word or disagreement. True, she was glad Draco showed restraint when Harry had paid his respects, but she didn't want him delicately walking around as though she wasn't strong enough to withstand his normally brusque manner.

As annoying as Draco's blatantly blunt opinions were, and his penchant for making one see the truth even when it was painful, it was something Hermione loved about him. No one else challenged her like that, or had ever tried. It was refreshing. Now he walked around on eggshells and to make the situation worse despite his assertions that her small scratches and scars didn't bother him, he hadn't touched her in anyway except to offer comfort. Draco had never been one to deny himself and she'd learned that well in the few weeks they'd lived together above her shop. Either she no longer appealed to him and he had only been trying to be generous by saying she was still attractive, or he was pitying her and had gotten tired of her in bed.

Both of those suppositions were degrading and Hermione didn't like the implications either one offered. She could try and entice him tonight she guessed, but she wasn't sure how to do that really. Draco had always been eager and initiated anything between them, and though she participated readily she hadn't ever been forced to use persuasion in any sense. So, she decided to go about things the only way she knew how. After all, since the night Draco had told her the story of what happened in the Astronomy Tower she hadn't dreamed about him so vividly as she had before. Therefore she didn't even have those moments in her sleep to comfort her.

As though sensing her thoughts Draco appeared, polite as ever by knocking on his own bedroom door before entering. "I told the elves to fix something light tonight, a small tray of doves and fresh vegetables. Will that be all right?"

Grimacing to herself Hermione nodded silently, and began to slip her jacket off, carelessly casting it to the floor. She watched Draco out of the corner of her eyes sling his own coat and constricting suit jacket over the back of a chair before walking over to start a fire. Outwardly ignoring him, she didn't continue to undress in the bathroom and made certain to walk stark naked over to the wardrobe to retrieve a casual sweater and pants to dress in later. Slowly making her way to the bathroom, Hermione paused at the door sweetly smiling. "Thank you for being civil to Harry and the others today. It meant a lot."

"As much as having Potter there," Draco snapped, and Hermione knew he hadn't been able to contain the anger in spite of himself. He had been jealous, and dangerously so when Ron had hugged her after Arthur's offhanded remarks. She hadn't understood that it was her reaction to Harry that gave him the most pause.

"His parents died in a similar manner," she said. "There's no reason I wouldn't have felt better with him there."

"Ah, yes, Potter can still do no wrong, and magnanimously offered to let you back into the fold when I prove to be wicked and inconsiderate," Draco drawled, derisively. "I'm surprised you didn't agree with Arthur Weasley and let his Weasel son take you away when he was pawing you earlier."

"Well, it was always assumed Ron and I would end up together," Hermione said, thoughtfully twisting her head to the side. "Things don't always turn out the way people expect I suppose. People always thought you'd marry Pansy Parkinson, but after you left school she turned to Zabini and from all accounts they're still together. Also, he wasn't pawing me. A friendly hug is hardly overstepping certain bounds."

"Did you always assume you'd marry the Weasel?"

"Yes," Hermione answered truthfully. "So did you when we were younger I'm sure."

"Assumptions lead to incorrect conclusions," he muttered, staring into the flames of the fire.

"It's nice to know that I have something to fall back on though and that I have family to turn to since I've lost my own parents now," she said wistfully, somewhat meaning it but also only wanting to see his reaction. It was dangerous to pick a fight with him at any time but if it made him look at her as an equal again it would be worth it.

"What exactly does that mean?" Draco was glaring, not trying to hide is displeasure or confusion. "You aren't thinking of taking Potter up on his offer to _save_ you from your fate as a Malfoy are you?"

"Not right now, but if in the future I would need a place to go he'll be there for me," Hermione whispered, and started to walk into the bathroom. "No matter what our differences Harry's like a brother to me and we can count on one another for support."

Closing the door Hermione filled the massive tub and happily poured a fragrant soap into the water to create frothy bubbles. To her disappointment Draco didn't pursue the conversation, and so she stepped into the hot bubble bath, intent on relaxing and easing some of the aches from that day. She didn't want to think about the two caskets that held her parents or how desolate the two holes in the ground seemed. She'd cried for them and she'd etched the memories of every photo she could find from every album in the past two days into her brain. For the moment she wanted to forget the funeral, the headstone with their names upon it, and the pain that came with their loss.

Staying in just long enough to feel tranquil and calm she had wrapped a robe around herself and was using her wand to perform a drying spell on her hair as she opened the bathroom door. Standing in the doorway Draco glared down at her arms crossed over a bare chest. "I'm sick of having to ask this, but does Potter mean more to you than your own husband? You might as well admit to it now if he does."

"If you have to ask then you don't know how I feel at all," Hermione said, and tried to push past him.

Barring her path, Draco didn't even budge when she collided with him. "I thought I was certain, but you're deliberately making me wonder aren't you?"

"No more than I wonder why all of a sudden you're afraid to talk to me, touch me, anything," she replied, more harshly than she had intended. Well, she had put her feelings plainly out there now and she could only wait to see how he reacted.

"Forgive me for trying to be kind and give you the time you needed to grieve. Would you prefer Saint Potter or the Weasel then?"

This was getting her somewhere and it felt good to see him starting to treat her normally. Draco's silvery eyes were flashing and though he had returned to severely slicking his hair back aristocratically it was a bit more unruly now adding to his displeased attitude. "No, I want you to stop acting as though I'm feeble and pitiful."  
"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" He was shouting and she welcomed it. Hermione didn't want a full-blown war to begin over Harry, far from it, but anything was better than having Draco pat her on the head and tuck her in for the night like a child. "Giving you time to adjust to a new home…"

"Which you never even asked if I wanted to live in anyway," Hermione interrupted and couldn't resist baiting him further."

Draco's arms fell to his sides and his fists clenched. "I told you how things would be when we no longer had to keep our marriage a secret. I made it perfectly clear where and how we would live. The manor isn't in the best condition but I never took you for one to care much for appearances. After all that Burrow was always enough for you before. Do you miss it now?"

"You've missed the point," Hermione sighed, and tried to make her way through the door again.

"Then explain yourself." With both arms braced on either side of the doorway her husband's glare grew more intense.

"I don't even know what I mean. I'm going downstairs." Hermione sighed again, deciding she was rubbish at getting her own way where Draco was concerned.

He let her pass this time and she felt his intense gaze on her back as she carried her outfit from the bathroom and laid it on the bed intending to dress. Hermione had begun to loosen the sash of her robe when Draco spoke again, still standing by the bathroom door. "Do you think you're healed completely now? It's been a few days since you were released."

The answer was yes. Hermione only felt a few twinges here or there, nothing significant, but she only shrugged angry tears stinging her eyes. For the first months when he had come back into her life she had wanted him to leave her alone and now when he did she couldn't stand it. Irony was not something she appreciated at the moment. Glancing down on the bed she noticed the jumper she had chosen looked too worn and faded. Though it was only Draco at dinner the manor itself seemed to suggest one look their best at all times.

Crossing back over to the wardrobe Hermione started sifting through the meager assortment of clothing Neville and Draco had hastily packed. Not many things matched. Actually nothing did, but they had tried so that was admirable. Grabbing another jumper, nearly the same style as the first it fell from her hands when she was hauled back into Draco's large frame. "Since you're being so vague I'll take that as a yes," she heard him say against her ear and couldn't repress a shiver as his breath fell heatedly over her skin.

"What are you doing?" It was a ridiculous question really and Hermione had learned when he was merely teasing her and when he was intent on appeasing their need for one another.

"Did you think I didn't know what you were about parading around like that before?" Running his tongue over the shell of her ear and then biting the where her shoulder and neck net met his grip around her waist tightened. "Instead of arguing all you had to do was ask."

Hermione let him push her towards a marble table near the windows meant for enjoying a private brunch. "I don't know what you mean?" she whispered, as innocently as possible, but hating secretly that she was so transparent.

Her robe fell away with ease and she leaned her neck to the side as Draco's lips found hers and began to probe the inside of her mouth with his tongue. There was nothing gentle about him at the moment and Hermione wondered if some of what she had said disturbed him. She hadn't meant it, and she had no intention of leaving him for any reason. To attempt and prove she wanted him just as much she tried to twist to face him.

"Don't bait me using Potter again," Draco rasped into her ear, hands coming up to massage her breasts and almost painfully pinch her nipples. "We had this discussion once before. I believe it ended the same way. I told you before that I wouldn't let Potter take away the only thing the mattered to me. I love you and Potter isn't going to win this time."

"Well?" he asked harshly, shaking her slightly. "You aren't going to say anything?"

Somehow managing to turn herself just enough to see his face Hermione couldn't keep the smile that appeared along with stray tears of surprise and delight. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Thank you! I've never said those words to another living soul and you simply say thank you?"

"Thank you very much," she said, unable to resist. For the first time in a week the beginning glimpses of happiness were returning and she didn't want to end the conversation just yet.

"Tease," he snapped, and hurriedly pushed her legs further apart with knees. "You'll tell me what I want to hear," he said smugly.

Later completely sated Hermione was throwing her head back on Draco's shoulder, gasping for breath. On the verge of whispering what he had been determined to extract from her she was turning, but not of her own accord. Her lethargic body was being lifted onto the table and she was suddenly staring into lazy, but lust filled eyes. "I'm waiting." Draco stepped between her knees tilting her face back between his hands.

"You didn't have to say that yet. I know you really aren't ready," Hermione murmured, pushing a stray lock of blond hair from his brow.

"I never do or say anything I don't want to," Draco assured her, growing serious and needing to hear her return his declaration. Something that he was beginning to realize was he wasn't pathetic for loving her. Actually when Hermione stood at his side and openly chose him before the world he was stronger somehow. That was the true risk of weakness, never letting yourself experience the softer emotions and losing those opportunities when they presented themselves.

"I love you," Hermione said, a little hesitantly, suddenly shy and unsure, not of her feelings, but that by hearing the words aloud he might retreat and wish he'd kept silent. Laying herself so open she couldn't bear it if, afterward, he withdrew the statement, unable to freely admit to such a naked emotion.

"Thank you," he intoned dryly, throwing her words back at her insolently.

Eye widening, Hermione lunged at him, all tender thoughts and intentions to protect his pride and ego forgotten. "Here I was afraid you were nervous to talk about love or anything that resembled it," she snapped, furiously shoving at his chest.

Easily defending himself from her blows Draco caught her wrists in his hand and wrapped his free arm around her waist to restrain her. "Not quite as amusing being on the receiving end is it?" He had playfully smiled at her briefly but that had disappeared. "I meant what I said, don't use Potter against me. What is between us doesn't concern him and never will. I won't be placed second to him either. I'm aware that both he and that Weasley are important to you but I won't compete with them."

"I'm not asking you to," Hermione replied, frowning and wondering if she had gone too far and made him question her loyalty.

Visibly relaxing Draco sighed once, and lifted her down from the table. "This isn't going to be easy, I'm aware of that. There isn't any love lost between myself, and Potter especially. However, you chose me and if he can't respect that I won't have you worrying about his opinion and rethinking our vows."

"You could tell Harry what really happened," she suggested, softly pressing herself against him and laying her cheek on his chest.

"No," he snarled harshly pulling away and stepping back several steps. "I won't lower myself to beg for Potter's forgiveness, not even for you. Leave it alone, Hermione. That night is over and what came after can't be undone."

Nodding silently Hermione padded over the carpet snatching her fallen jumper from the floor and intending to dress herself. Pushing him to reconcile his past with Harry would get her nowhere, and Harry was as likely to fight making amends as Draco. Starting to slip a bra strap over her shoulder to have it flicked out of her hand and somewhere behind her.

"What?" Draco asked, none too innocently when she threw him a slightly disgruntled glance over her shoulder.

"What about dinner?" Not that she cared as he was easing her back onto the bed, his continued objective obvious.

"It won't be served for awhile and besides isn't this taking your mind off of what's taken place recently?"

Smiling up at him Hermione opened her thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck relishing the feel of his body covering her own. "Yes." Nothing could make her forget how painful the last few days had been, but if she could focus on something else for a little while it made coping that much easier.

"Then be a willing participant and kiss your husband," Draco ordered, ruining the superior command by smiling at how readily she complied.


	20. Dangerous Suspicions

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_Some of you have asked after the last couple of chapters if this is the end. Not quite. There are _

Chapter 20

Dangerous Suspicions

"You're sure Hermione isn't going to be home any second?" Neville asked while turning a full circle the middle of the Malfoy study. Old antique chairs and a rosewood desk graced the room and the floors were hardwood and impeccably shined. It wasn't completed yet, but the study was coming along nicely. Apparently Malfoy wasn't wasting time trying to refurnish his home. Neville never dreamed he'd be allowed or have a need to see the sinister Malfoy Manor ever, but things were changing everyday it seemed.

"She's with the Weasel brood so she won't be home for hours," Draco assured him, and Neville didn't miss the slight hint of jealousy and irritation in his host's tone.

"Hours you say? What could possibly take hours there? "

"Its either let her go shopping and Gods know what else she and the little She-Weasel do together or have the entire clan crawling about here," Draco replied, finally thinking that he might as well be gracious and pour Neville a drink. This was getting to be a habit, he realized, entertaining guests that popped in without notice thinking about how Ginny, Ronald, and the twins had made themselves daily visitors after the Grangers' funeral. However, at least Neville wouldn't put on a false act for Hermione. If Neville was angry or displeased with him he came right out and said so.

"They're a loving family," Neville remarked, surprised when Draco handed him a glass with amber liquid in it. "Anyone would be lucky to have them really."

"The twins are tolerable, however their brother Ronald is making himself a nuisance."

Neville's lips twitched involuntarily, and he already knew what Malfoy was meaning. "He offered to marry her you know, to get the inheritance."

"He's probably waiting right now for her to come to her senses and run off with him," Draco said darkly, getting a drink for himself and indicating that Neville should sit an arm chair against the wall.

"He's loved her since we were children, but he wants her to be happy. They're like oil and water in some respects. His temper always got on her nerves and her bookish ways always irritated him," Neville said, wondering when he'd gotten elevated to the status where he could share a drink and sit comfortably next to Malfoy

"Those bookish ways kept his grades up if I remember," Draco defended his wife without thinking. "He was always more interested in Quidditch, eating, and supporting Potter than actually applying himself." Draco stopped talking then and looked into the glass he held in his hand. "Dammit Longbottom, did you come here to reminisce about school or actually give me some useful information."

"Hetherington, that barrister of Mione's is dead," Neville said, bluntly.

"Well if I had to draft wills and codicils concerning that aunt of hers I'd likely die of boredom or annoyance myself," Draco shrugged, not sure why this meant anything.

"Dark magic Malfoy, not natural or Muggle means."

Draco's body tensed then and he sat the glass on his father's old desk. "Who would want to take the risk of using magic to kill a barrister? Why would he be so important?"

"That's what we're all wondering. However, the connections between the Grangers and Hetherington are too close to be denied. They were all killed in the same manner, tortured first with the _Cruciatus_ then of course finished with the Killing Curse. The same description was given for the assailant, blond hair, tall, and light eyes," Neville explained, taking a small sip from his glass.

"Is this a courtesy call then before I'm arrested again," Draco wondered, his eyes darkening and narrowing at Neville.

"No, actually the Ministry hasn't even been considering you this time and I've been reading through your file. You weren't even near London the night those Muggles were attacked were you?"

"I believe I told both you and Percy that numerous times after I was brought to the Ministry. My guilt ended with the attack on Hogwarts," Draco said, but he was far away now, remembering the night in the tower despite himself.

"Well it doesn't make sense why most of the information about the description of the Death Eaters' leader that night has been either erased or charmed into invisibility. They were so certain at the time, and Crabbe and Goyle both testified that you were there. However, their testimonies were stricken from the record after you were found guilty. Things don't add up and we should have looked at this sooner," Neville stated, firmly thinking he was obviously leaning towards insanity for even considering looking into this for Malfoy, but doing it for Hermione's sake in the long run. "There's something else, did your mother ever tell you where your father was buried? Did she ever come and see you when you were being held at the Ministry?" Neville asked, leaning forward to hear the answer.

"I haven't seen my mother since I was sixteen and before Hogwarts was attacked. She didn't come to the Ministry and I only heard about my father's death because Percy was trying to make a point after the fact. Why would you ask?"

"No reason. It's a silly idea really," Neville murmured taking another drink from his glass. "It would ease a lot of fears though if we knew where Lucius was buried."  
"What's that supposed to mean? Two Aurors killed him when he was trying to escape, it was documented, and Percy gave me most of the details. He was probably buried somewhere on that island near Azkaban. I doubt they even marked his grave," Draco said, with a twisted grimace. He did not respect the man any longer and blamed him for the downfall of their family name, but he had been his father and deserved a headstone, a marker, something to show that he had lived.

"That's the problem. After the Aurors killed him no one knows what happened to the body," Neville continued, earnestly. "They brought him back inside the prison but after that there isn't any conclusive evidence of where the body was taken or why. There aren't any records of where, why, or how the body was disposed of."

"That's not so unusual. He was a convicted murderer and he's probably in a shallow grave near the prison," Draco shrugged again, trying to appear unaffected, but nevertheless a chill had settled in the air around him.

"That's what I assumed but there were no burials, secret or otherwise on the island," Neville said thoughtfully. "I just thought you should know that there might be more to this than at first meets the eye. For all intent purposes your father is dead Malfoy, but someone might be trying to resurrect him for their own reasons. It's just a possibility, but someone might be manipulating records to make everyone wonder if he's alive."

"Well since you've put so much time and effort into looking for dead bodies has anyone been able to discover who it was that attacked Hermione in her own shop? Scrimgeour's so worried about publicity I would think finding the person responsible for injuring a Malfoy would rank fairly high on his priorities." Draco was changing the subject to steer clear of the topic of his father. Neville was right; someone was simply putting suggestions out there trying to either make him out a murderer or bring back the elder Malfoy's image to use for their own means.

"Scrimgeour has four on the case, but Malfoy I wouldn't get my hopes up. The Du Mariers have been to the Ministry recently and asked Scrimgeour to discontinue the search for their house elf. If they were responsible for her attack I doubt they're going to try anything else. They seemed very shaken up and they weren't their usual annoyingly nasty selves."

"Well whatever changed their minds I won't question it," Draco sighed, glancing at the clock that stood against the wall near the door. It was only a little past noon and Hermione had said she would be finishing Christmas shopping near dinnertime. She also said she would be staying at the Weasley's for dinner and had made it perfectly clear she was punishing him for refusing the invitation to The Burrow for Christmas.

Honestly, what had she expected? Yes, the Weasley's were making a supreme effort not to insult or outwardly ignore him, but that didn't mean he couldn't sense they weren't comfortable with his position in Hermione's life. Well, the twins seemed to be more accepting and possibly Ginny, but other than that he knew Arthur remembered his father every time he looked at him, as did Molly. Then, Draco had to contend with Ron making it glaringly obvious that he had every right to drape an arm about Hermione or kiss her cheek. Not every gesture of affection was brotherly.

No, an entire day under their scrutiny wasn't possible, especially since Potter would be there, staring and accusing him with his posture and his sharp gaze. It didn't matter to him how Potter felt, but the bastard knew it upset Hermione and Draco was sure he was trying to make her see how uncomfortable and useless it would be to stay in her marriage. The scar-headed prat was holding all of his hopes on the fact that she would eventually choose his friendship over her own husband and despite Hermione's reassurances to the contrary, Draco wasn't certain that wasn't such a incorrect assumption."

"I just came to warn you and I didn't want to upset Mione' further. She's dealt with enough as it is and so I wanted to keep this between us unless it becomes necessary to get her involved," Neville said, standing when he realized his host was getting a little irritated.

"Thank you I guess," Draco said absently, but he was staring into the fire across the room.

"The Ministry has agreed to allow you to open the manor again in the Floo Network. Just one mind you, but that's a victory," Neville said before stepping near the fireplace in the study. "I'll have it activated here in a few moments for you. That is if you want it in the study."

"The study is fine. Why didn't she marry the Weasel if he would have offered?"  
Neville kept his back to Malfoy, but smiled again. "She doesn't love him that way and never really has. He's also realized that they really aren't suited. Ron and Hermione will always be close, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. Right now the Weasley's are comforting he,r and drawing her into their nest so to speak. She's an orphan now Malfoy so she needs them."

"Of course I'm not worried," Draco snapped, glaring at Neville's back while the overbearing Auror went about his work. "Malfoy's don't divorce and Hermione knows that."

"I'm not particularly fond of you anymore than you are of me, but I can tell you want to physically harm Ron any time he gets within a meter of her. I'm just being friendly and letting you know there's nothing to worry about. Percy was your greatest threat and he's proven to the arse we all knew he was."

"I was never worried about Percy," Draco snarled, not liking how Neville insinuated otherwise. "The dead barrister, was that all you came to talk to me about?"  
With a wry chuckle Neville finished opening the fireplace and realized he'd worn out his welcome. It was just as well, he didn't want to start feeling anything other than a passing civility towards the man. They weren't friends and never would be and Neville was perfectly happy with that fact. "Yes, tell Mione Happy Christmas for me."

"Yes, yes, now go on and see if you can Floo safely," Draco motioned with his hand toward the fireplace impatient for Neville to be gone. "I don't want to be the first to try it and end up maimed or halfway around the world from my actual destination."

"You think I can't successfully managed this?" Neville asked his face turning a bit purple from anger. He had actually come to help the condescending git and he was insulting his skills.

"I've seen too many cauldrons cracked and too many spells incorrectly cast for me to blindly go on faith alone. Besides it was also a subtle hint." Draco motioned again toward the fireplace, and with a final glare of indifference Neville stepped near the flames, tossed the powder, and disappeared, safely landing at the Ministry.

Christmas passed and New Years came and Hermione had turned into a different person again, or rather she was punishing Draco for his stubbornness. He had refused to go The Burrow for Christmas and Hermione had been forced to listen to Harry's numerous reasons why the holiday was much better spent without Malfoy. This resulted in a quarrel that at first only included Hermione and Harry but soon spilled over into a war between husband and wife. If it was any consolation for Draco, Harry's own wife was as put out with him as Hermione was with her spouse.

"You didn't really expect me to accept the invitation did you?" Draco finally confronted her one-day when she had decided to ignore him altogether.

Hermione knew she was being slightly unreasonable, but part of her had foolishly hoped that at least on Christmas everyone could put their anger aside. Molly had hoped that too and she was probably insulted that Draco hadn't been able to lower himself to come to her home. At least, that was how she felt now with Harry telling her that Draco hadn't wanted to scuff his new shoes and dirty his silk robes by coming to The Burrow. Harry's attitude was justified most of the time, but a comment on every little thing wasn't necessary.

"It's been a month Hermione," Draco snapped, when she still didn't acknowledge him.

"Molly's feelings were hurt and you're only making Harry's opinion of you seem warranted if you keep acting this way. I'm not asking you to forget everything and neither have they really, but the Weasleys are trying. You however couldn't either have been bothered or deem it important enough to simply have wished them a Happy Christmas."

"I wasn't going to sit there while everyone stared and accused me of things I haven't done. Potter can't wait to make a spectacle of himself and that Weasel friend of his enjoys making it obvious always touching you. Maybe you should have taken him up on his offer to marry you before you lowered yourself to marrying a common criminal," he shouted back at her, hating how she could so calmly act as though him sitting at the same table as the Weasley family in their own home was such an easy thing to do.

"First you're jealous of Percy, now Ron. Really do you think I'm that fickle? Besides who told you Ron offered to marry me? He just did it so I could get the money and it never went beyond a casual discussion. Ron and I weren't meant to be together. We'd kill one another in less than a week with his sloppy habits and my need to always be right," Hermione sighed, wondering if Draco would ever feel secure enough to trust that she was committed to their vows. She knew he'd been forgotten and cast aside a lot, or so it seemed, as a child, but she wasn't going to leave him on a whim or forsake her marriage because Harry was being difficult.

"Percy was too eager and too obvious, Weasel on the other hand acts as though he's being brotherly, so when he puts his hands all over you even you can't tell the difference." Draco didn't really think that Hermione encouraged Weasley in any way, but she was oblivious to his intentions. No, he couldn't sit idly by and let Potter made snide remarks while Weasley groped his wife. He'd curse them both to hell and back before poor Molly Weasley had gotten the first course onto the table most likely.

"Gods, Ron isn't acting like that, but see it that way if you want to," Hermione sighed again, realizing this was a useless battle and she had no hope of winning it at the moment.

"Where are you going?" Draco called behind her, as she walked away briskly going toward the study.

"I'm going to Floo to Fred and George's. They're going to help me clear out the rest of the shop and I'll be back later," she answered, without turning around or stopping.

"Another afternoon with the Weasleys," he asked, a little too pleasantly, so Hermione knew he was aching to finish their fight.

"You're welcome to come along. I know Fred and George actually don't irritate you as much as Ron and Harry. You might enjoy yourself, Gods forbid," Hermione drawled disappearing into the study.

A few minutes later Hermione and Draco appeared before George and Fred who greeted them both warmly. "Hermione, Malfoy," Fred said, nodding his head and smiling wide.

"Came to see if you still had the time to help me close up the shop properly," Hermione said, stepping closer and sniffing a bubbling concoction that George held out to her eagerly.

"Try it Mione'. Ron won't test things for us anymore and I know you'll like it," George encouraged.

Hermione looked once from George to the steaming mug in his hands and shook her head. "No thanks, I'm sure it's very nice, but I'd hate to ruin my appetite for dinner."

"Honestly, it isn't going to blow up in your mouth, set your tongue on fire, or make your eyes pop out of your head. We wouldn't do that to you. Those particular potions are especially reserved for Ron himself," Fred beamed, nodding enthusiastically.

Hermione turned to look at Draco who shook his head as if to say he didn't trust it for a second, but if she was insane enough she could suit herself. "Draco might try if for you," she said sweetly, flashing a brilliant smile.

"Okay, Malfoy go ahead. You know we couldn't give you anything that'd hurt you. Hermione'd have us hexed into the next month and beyond if we did," Fred said motioning for George to offer the mug to Draco.

Casting a searing glare at his wife Draco eyed the mug with trepidation, but took it realizing this was a test. If he refused and was rude Hermione would claim he wasn't trying to make amends or be polite. However, anyone in their right mind wouldn't simply gulp down something the troublesome twins mixed up. Even their own mother had given up on chastising them for their behavior. "What exactly does this do?" Draco asked, warily leaning to sniff the liquid, surprised when it didn't singe the delicate hairs in his nose. It was somewhat pleasant, some kind of berry with a hint of vanilla.

"Nothing that's embarrassing or at least not that we'd consider embarrassing," George said, almost too innocently.

That brought Draco's guard up immediately. The twins weren't embarrassed by nearly anything, and so this could have far reaching implications should he drink it. Glancing sideways at Hermione even her features had turned down somewhat and she was frowning at the twins. "What is in that anyway? Don't lie and say it's a secret recipe. What's this potion going to make him do?" Hermione asked cautiously, coming to stand at Draco's side and sniff the mug for herself.

"Would we give either of you anything that would make you sick?" George inquired, his face a mask of youthful innocence. That was what tipped Hermione off instantly.

"Draco, don't drink it," she said firmly taking the mug away and handing it back to George who finally gave into a pout at his joke being foiled.

"You're no fun sometimes Mione'. He only would've wanted to run around a bit, starkers probably, but we couldn't be sure so we had to test it," Fred explained, as though it was a legitimate experiment.

"What the bloody hell? Weasley you would've given her something to make her strip to her knickers and.." Draco started advancing on the twin, George, who was closest to him. He was fairly certain they had brewed something similar to this potion during school and wondered why they would try their hand at it again

"Actually, strip out of her knickers, but you were here you could've Flooed her home in time," George defended. "It's just a bit of fun. Some married couples need a little help you know, keeping things interesting."

In spite of herself Hermione started to laugh and at the sound Draco decided to give up pummeling the terrible twins for the time being. She hadn't laughed since her parents' death so he could forgive them their crude humor for now. "To think you might have drank it and ran around starkers in their shop," she giggled.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing, but I thought we came here to finish closing up _your_ shop," Draco reminded her glaring once more at the Weasleys for good measure.

Really Fred and George weren't bad at all, and they had been civil to him even when Potter had tried to discount his worry about Hermione. The twins might not be bad acquaintances. Draco couldn't go so far as to call them friends, but they had quietly checked out certain leads, along with that sneaky brother of theirs Ron, concerning Hermione's threats.

"Fred I'll keep things going here, you take Hermione and Malfoy over," George said, and smiled when a little girl of maybe three or four walked in. As the other three were leaving Hermione grinned as George began offering the child a piece of chocolate.

"I wouldn't be thinking he's so wonderful for doing that," Draco warned her while they walked away. "There's live bugs in that chocolate."

Hermione only heard the shriek of the little girl and then a fit of giggles that followed before they reached her own shop.

"Entertaining Longbottom, taking afternoon strolls with a member of the Weasley family, and to make matters worse, dropping over half of your inheritance into the Ministry to keep that plain wife of yours out of prison. Why, I do believe I must have the wrong manor," Snape drawled lazily, as he sat in a chair facing the fire in the sitting room.

Draco had been expecting him, and since the house was quiet, and the elves already off in bed along with Hermione he decided to take his time with the professor tonight to ask more questions. "Where did my mother have my father buried?" Draco bluntly asked, leaning against the wall to the side of the professor.

"Why would you ask that?" Snape's tone grew wary and guarded.

"No reason, simply that someone is trying to make it appear that either I'm a career criminal or that my father's risen from the dead. Who would want to do that? You wouldn't be trying to exact some revenge now would you?" Draco inquired icily, his eyes never leaving the man slumped in the chair.

"Whatever is going on I have nothing to do with it. Miss Gran… Mrs. Malfoy's unfortunate encounter at her shop and the death of her parents and that barrister are regrettable, but I'm afraid I'm not involved."  
"Why do you want my mother's diary so badly? Is she really sending you here or are you spying on us?" Draco had become suspicious of many past enemies, but Snape was the one that kept coming to mind. He'd been forced to take Draco's burden upon his own shoulders and perhaps now he was hoping for retribution.

"You mother wants it, that's all that matters. As for accusing me of spying I've given up that particular pastime. It never did me much good as you can see Mr. Malfoy," Snape growled under his breath. "I take it that you've found it then."

"Why should I give it to you? What's to say that you won't take it to the Ministry and use it against her or me? You need leverage and if you brought my mother to them for questioning they might show you leniency. Obviously there's something important in the diary and you want it."

"I can see that you're going to be difficult and unreasonable. Trust me, the diary belongs to your mother, and for sentimental reasons only she wants it returned to her. Would you be so kind as to retrieve it?"  
"No, I don't think so. Search the manor if you want, skulk around and pry. You know the manor inside and out so you won't have any difficulty."

"Stubbornness is a trait you share with that overly opinionated wife of yours," Snape hissed, but stood and kept his back to Draco. "Your mother needs that diary. It's all she has of her past and she needs it to survive. If you're too selfish to help her when she needs you…"

"My mother never lifted a finger to help me until it was almost too late so what exactly do I owe her now?" Draco stated harshly his lazy stance disappearing instantly.

Snape sighed heavily and he turned to face Draco for the first time. His hair was even longer, more mangy and his face more drawn and haunted. "More than you know my boy. More than you know." Then he was gone, having Apparated before Draco's eyes.

Staring at the space vacated by the professor Draco felt conflicted. Surely Snape wouldn't have betrayed him in that way? Maybe he really meant it that his mother only wanted the diary back for personal reasons. What was so important other than a few pictures and daily logs of her life?

Since Hermione had given the journal to him he hadn't read it, only skimmed the dates to see how far the entries went. Now he wondered if he should delve into the pages a bit more, read and even sort through his mother's secret thoughts. So much had been taken from them all he had wanted to let her keep her privacy, but there might be something else that kept the professor so desperate to have safely in his mother's possession.

Then there was the mystery of not once by now three times someone fitting Draco's description had been the main suspect in murders investigated by the Ministry. At that moment he contemplated his sudden reprieve and admittance into a rehabilitation program. If he had been considered guilty of such a crime as leading an entire group of Death Eaters in a raid against Muggles why would he ever be given another chance to integrate into society even by means as an Indentured Servant?

At the time he hadn't thought too much on the subject and he'd focused on only Hermione's threats and their marriage in the last months alone. Maybe he'd ask Longbottom what else was in that file, and as to why he was so graciously given a second chance. There must have been a good reason if the Ministry allowed a Malfoy to receive any good fortune.

Deciding to go upstairs for the night he wondered if Hermione was still awake reading, or if she'd given up on him and gone to sleep. After their trip to Diagon Alley and short interlude with the twins she hadn't been as angry with him. He'd made numerous concessions for her, but though he didn't mind the occasional meeting with the Weasleys per se he wasn't going to lower himself and apologize to Potter. That was probably what she was waiting for, and there were just some things he couldn't do.

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Draco saw a candle still burning on Hermione's side of the bed, and she was propped up avidly devouring a copy of Tolstoy's _Anna Karenina_. He liked reading himself, but she couldn't get enough it seemed. However, after listening to her explain the plot Draco wasn't certain he would have liked the book, and not only because it was written by a Muggle. Apparently this Anna Karenina was passionately in love with man who was not her husband. That particular theme didn't set well with Draco at the present. "You've only been reading that for a day and you're almost finished?" he asked when he saw that she was already to the latter part of the book.

"It's the most beautiful love story ever written. I don't normally go for fluffy rubbish, but this isn't just love and sweet nothings, it's passionate, intriguing. Can you imagine having to fight so hard just for a few moments with the person you love only to know that society and life itself will keep you from happiness?"

"Forgive me if I can't find sympathy for those who choose to break wedding vows and betray their husbands." Draco rolled his eyes but wasn't really listening to her exuberant account.

"What were you doing downstairs?" Hermione asked curiously, setting the book aside on the nightstand. "You weren't counting all of your galleons again were you?" She loved to tease him about how shrewd he'd become in investing, not only his money but also her own. It was a serious affair, and she knew that, but he made it an obsession. Only the most important and high yielding businesses received any money from the Malfoy's.

"You have your research and I have my investments. I don't bother you about the numerous pages you added to your journal about Divination and its nonexistent place in the Wizarding World now do I?" Draco walked over and began to discard his clothing near the chair pushed into the marble table. Snape's conversation and Longbottom's suspicions were bothering him more than he realized. His last intention was to come upstairs to fight with her after they had put some of their issues behind them following the visit with the twins.

"Thank you for coming with me today. I know you tolerate Fred and George much better than anyone else, but it meant a lot," Hermione said, sliding out of bed to walk over and stand before him. She was going to let his outburst go by because something was bothering him, and she wasn't sure what it could be.

"But it would mean more to you if I poured my heart out to Potter, told him all of the details about that night in the tower, and tried to make nice," Draco snidely hissed, having tossed his shirt over the back of the chair and working on removing his pants.

"If you ever choose to talk to Harry about the past that is your decision. I only want to be able to enjoy a holiday or special occasion with both you and the Weasleys. Draco my parents are gone and Molly and Arthur are all I have to, not replace them, but help make the emptiness go away. If they're willing to put the past behind them and move on then I hope someday you will too," she whispered, reaching out to take his hand.

To her surprise he squeezed it tightly and looked at her intently. "Do I look like my father? I mean if you saw both of us at a distance would you mistake me for him?"

"I only saw your father a few times but yes you resemble him," she answered confused where the sudden question had come from.

"Why do you think the Ministry pardoned me, reprieved my death sentence?"

Hermione froze and didn't like the topic of conversation all at once. She hated thinking that someday they might say they made a mistake and arrest him again. She knew Draco hadn't taken part in the London attack and had never been near Wales when her parents were murdered, but Percy wasn't as convinced and neither was Scrimgeour. The Minister might be leaving them alone for now, but what happened when he got angry and found a way to make Draco pay for getting her released? "I don't want to talk about that. Come to bed. I have an early morning tomorrow and…"

"Don't you think I deserved to be given another chance?" he asked severely, mistaking her indifference for mistrust.

"Yes, from the moment we were married I told you I didn't think you killed those Muggles didn't I. Now, I don't want to talk about it because if we act like it never happened then maybe the Ministry won't think about it either. You don't realize this, but everyday since you visited Scrimgeour I've been afraid he would try to reopen the case against you. It scares me to death to think that they might someday decide that it was only a mistake, a misplaced order, or something that kept them from executing you! Now, Scrimgeour is a fair man but even he would have to reevaluate the case if it was discovered you weren't meant to be spared!" Hermione turned and headed back for the bed hoping he would take the hint and not say anything more on the subject.

"Do you really believe I'd let them take me back now?" His tone was quiet and somewhat humorous, but he was also trying to comfort her again. Draco rarely came out and offered her soothing words but something as simple as that assurance was enough.

"I suppose not," she sighed and climbed beneath the covers.

Draco slipped in beside her and Hermione turned to face him immediately. "You should be more careful though. I haven't asked how you got Scrimgeour to drop the Du Marier case, but I doubt he'd be so willingly to overlook your attitude towards him a second time."

"Scrimgeour doesn't concern me, and you shouldn't worry about him either." Draco poised himself above her grinning and shaking his head. "I still don't know why you wear anything to bed."

Happy with the change of focus Hermione had to wonder herself why she even laid out a nightgown or pajamas any longer. Wriggling, she knew he was waiting patiently for her to remove the impeding garment herself and did so throwing it wherever it would fall. Anything at the moment to put from her mind the thought of losing him to Azkaban was welcome. Not that she would have complained even if the discussion weren't to her liking.

"Much better, and I didn't even need that potion from the Weasley's," Draco said, smirking arrogantly. "Maybe someday they think they'll need help as far as their wives are concerned, but I'm confident I'll never have any trouble."

Raising her eyebrows in mock outrage Hermione twisted swiftly threatening to evade him completely for the smug remark. This only succeeded in landing her sprawled atop her husband and her legs trapped with his own. Draco knew she wasn't truly serious about trying to get away, but didn't feel playful at the moment. There were too many things to think about, Snape, his mother's diary, if or when the Du Marier's would try and lash out again. True, Hermione was either with the Weasley's or himself at all times, but someday she would be alone and they could try again even if Longbottom's story about the family dropping their case was true.

"You're too confident and I shouldn't let you get your way all of the time," Hermione teased, her eyes sparkling but she turned her head sideways. "You're awfully serious," she said quietly and with concern leaning closer.

"Making sure our money is put to good use and invested wisely is a serious undertaking," he answered, but his gaze told her that wasn't exactly was he was thinking about.

Hermione knew Draco wasn't being completely truthful, but said nothing instinctively letting him have time before he shared what was bothering him. They were both alike in that respect, not wanting to burden others or unable to share without feeling feeble and useless. "Yes it is," Hermione agreed, still edging closer and purposefully rubbing her breasts over his chest.

Tonight he didn't want to talk and reveal everything he was thinking and Draco appreciated that she understood this. Hermione rarely let a conversation end without some resolution, but even she didn't seem to want to get into further detail about the possibility of the Ministry reopening his case. It didn't please him that she was upset, but to know that she was so disturbed at the thought she could lose him. Satisfied at another indication that she cared so deeply, Draco for the first time since returning to the manor felt a small sense of peace.

Hermione didn't protest when he roughly rolled them both again and her back was pressed firmly into the bed. Draco didn't speak but stared at her for a moment before lowering his head and took her lips in a hungry kiss. Yes, he could forget Longbottom's theory about his father, could forget that the Du Marier's could try to take his wife from him at any time as long as he lost himself in her tonight.

They didn't move for a long while after, and Hermione felt soothed instead of uncomfortable at the weight pressing against her. If they never moved from that position she would be content, and she muttered a small protest when he raised his head and appeared to think about pulling away. "You still need to be careful," Draco said softly, but not elaborating further.

"Don't move, not yet," Hermione pleaded in a ragged whisper tightening her arms about him and she could even forgive the self-satisfied smirk that was evident upon his face at her words.

"You haven't said the words again, not since the funeral," Draco reminded her, still unable to completely feel at ease with asking for her affections.

Normally she would have tormented him a little, made him come out and ask her, but not tonight. Tonight she lovingly brushed the hair from across his forehead, and kissed him gently. "I love you."

How three words could affect someone so Draco would never understand, but hearing her sincerity only pushed aside the darker images of his past life and gave him more determination to nurture the life he now had. Laying his head over her heart he sighed once and folded her in his arms more securely. When he spoke it was so quietly Hermione wasn't certain she heard him at first. "I love you, more than you'll ever believe probably. Never doubt that."

Hermione could not sleep until well into the night not distrustful of Draco's declaration, but worried about whatever it was that was haunting him now. Her qualms were growing, especially with the cryptic question about his father. Also, he'd never mentioned how or why he was pardoned and had never questioned it himself.

Tomorrow she would go and see Neville and make him look at Draco's file again. There had been nothing as to why he'd been spared his execution or who had given the order. It was considered classified information, as were most prisoners' documents from Azkaban. Still, Neville was very good at circumventing certain roadblocks. If there was something that could lead to Draco being taken to the Ministry for any reason, or his status as a free man revoked Hermione wanted to know about it, and stop anything before it could happen.


	21. Narcissa's Secret

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_Happy Easter everyone and take care!_

Chapter 21

Narcissa's Secret

"You're sure there's nothing there? There's got to be a file Ron," Hermione snapped impatiently, starting to drum her nails on the desk before her.

Ron watched the expressions on her face and wondered if he should conjure a fake file to simply to take the dark scowl that was shadowing her features. An angry Hermione wasn't easily handled. "Maybe someone else is looking at it right now?" he suggested, garnering an even more ominous glare. "Well what do you want me to do? Gods Hermione I can't make it appear out of thin air. Who knows Percy might have pulled it to try and rewrite some of the evidence or something. Wouldn't put it past him."

Hermione huffed loudly and glanced around looking for Ginny. She was supposed to meet her at the Ministry and she was running a few minutes late. About to turn her attention back to Ron another wizard caught her attention. Gregory Goyle was slinking into an office, piles of papers nearly hiding his face from view. However, those same dull but sneaky eyes, and sneering mouth was visible. "Ron, what in the name of Merlin is Goyle doing here?"

Ron looked up and shrugged with some disgust. "He's working below in filing and research. Doesn't pay very much, and keeps him out of everyone's way. After all he was supposedly valuable with some of his testimony. Load of bollocks if you ask me," he finished with a grunt of loathing.

Hermione watched the offending wizard disappear into a dark office and shook her head at the Ministry's continued ignorance. "Neville was supposed to meet me today do you know where he went?" she asked standing when she saw Ginny at the door of the office waving enthusiastically.

"Left a little while ago I think," Ron answered, rolling his eyes at his sister's animated greeting. She never seemed to grow up. Even now that she was married she still acted like an excited child sometimes. "I've been meaning to ask you how things are going. I mean living with you know…"

Hermione stifled a groan at Ron's less than tactful question. "You can say his name Ron, and very well thank you."

"When he didn't come to Christmas dinner I figured you might not be getting along as well as you wanted us all to think."

"Harry made it perfectly clear he didn't want him there and Draco would have to be blind and deaf to be able to sit across the table from him while he ruined the entire meal with his remarks. Not that Draco would've behaved much better," Hermione drawled, turning to Ginny with a smile and hugged her warmly.

"After all the trouble you've had Hermione I don't know why you insisted I meet you here," Ginny said, shaking her head and throwing a disgruntled expression in Ron's direction. "I know you hate working for Percy but do you always have to look like you're sucking on a lemon or something?"

"I was trying to see the public records concerning Draco's trial a few years ago, nothing special really," Hermione told her friend, gathering her bag and turning to leave. "Ron, she's your baby sister. Smile and say how nice it is to see her."  
"Just don't let her drag you around too much today. She thinks she's got Harry fooled with how much money she spends." Ron actually glared at her disapprovingly then. "Behave yourself and you know better. Mum taught us the value of a galleon and because you have more to burn than you ever thought possible doesn't mean you should."

"Harry and I are quite comfortable on his inheritance and his investments thank you and now Hermione and I are off. She's married to a wealthy wizard and should be dressing like it," Ginny stated with a firm nod and tug on Hermione's arm.

Ron watched them leave wondering if Hermione knew what she'd gotten herself into by agreeing to let Ginny take her shopping. Hermione could act like a girl now and again but she wasn't all that crazy about spending hours looking at dresses and robes. Ginny would probably have her begging to return to that drafty manor of Malfoy's by a little past lunch.

"I just need to stop by my flat for a minute. There's something I wanted your help with," Ginny said cryptically.

Both women Apparated to the Potter's flat and Ginny rushed off to her bedroom returning with a rather thick book. "I know Harry's been hinting at starting a family of our own and I kept telling him we were so young, but I just wanted to surprise him."

Hermione smiled brightly at her friend. "Ginny do you think you're?" she alluded motioning with her hands for Ginny to answer her.

"I don't know. I might be and I wanted you to be here to make sure I did the test right. Mum got it wrong once when she was going to have me. Didn't get the wand to glow at all and then it put a Mars symbol for the male gender over her belly."

Hermione took the book from Ginny and they read the exact incantation and Ginny played the words over in her head with determination. Nodding to herself and Hermione she took off her robes and lifted the edge of her shirt just enough to expose her stomach. Taking a deep breath she circled the wand once over her belly and spoke, _"Reperio presentia novus vita."_

The wand jerked once and looked as though it would begin to glow a faint red, but then the light faded and both girls had to frown at one another. "Do you think that was a positive result and it just didn't materialize properly?" Ginny asked Hermione, wondering and anxious.

"Maybe," Hermione mused, thinking this was like a Muggle home test where the lines are faint and you have to retest again. "Go ahead and say it again," she suggested, picking the book back up to see if ancient wizards had mastered the problems of false positives and false negatives in pregnancy testing.

This time there was no glow and Ginny's head fell in defeat. "I was so sure this time," she whispered, her disappointment evident.

"We're still so young though Gin," Hermione reasoned, not sure how to comfort her when she thought that her friends were too newly married to be considering children. Her own parents had been married almost seven years before she had been born. Then again in the Wizarding World, why wait as far as they were concerned. The sooner one started the more children they could produce to infuse the numbers for the Ministry.

"You take the test," Ginny said quickly. "If its positive for you we'll know it's not working or whatever."

"Ginny, I'm not taking it," Hermione said flatly. "I'm not pregnant and I've been taking precautions. I don't want children for a while and I'm not sure about…"

"Oh for Merlin's sake Hermione I'm not asking for an outline of your life plans. I'm asking you to see if this wand is faulty or the test isn't going to work for me like Mum that time," Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes back in her head.

A little disgruntled Hermione pulled off her robes and lifted her shirt slightly so Ginny could do her worst. "I'm doing this under protest," she ground out when Ginny smirked triumphantly.

Repeating the words again Ginny circled Hermione's belly and smiled smugly when the wand instantly glowed red and vibrated slightly. "See, its not working. Shows you've got a positive result and if you say you've been being careful you're too annoyingly perfect to forget a contraceptive potion or spell."

Despite Ginny's reassurance Hermione glanced down at the traitorous wand in horror. "Ginny, do it again," she ordered tersely, snatching up the book again and reading even more frantically for evidence of false results.

"I'm certain I'm pregnant and you're certain you're not so apparently we're having some difficulty making the spell work properly. This happens a lot Mum says," Ginny reassured her, but dutifully preformed the test again.

This time the wand shook violently and glowed the moment the last word was spoken. Hermione actually squeaked and grabbed her own wand and tested again. The result was the same. She gazed back in a mixture of horror and disbelief at Ginny who was starting to appear surprised herself. "Check the gender. If there's really no baby then surely it won't give a gender."

Quickly Hermione asked for the gender and within seconds a small glowing ghost of a symbol hovered over her belly, the symbol of Venus for the female sex. Ginny gasped audibly and Hermione fell silent. She credited herself for having the strength to make it to the sofa on the other side of the living room before actually losing consciousness for some time.

"It was as I suspected, nothing whatsoever," Neville nodded angrily, throwing the file down on the desk in front of Draco. "You have no idea how hard this was to get out of the Ministry let alone dodge Hermione in the process."

"What was she doing there?" Draco asked leafing through the pages and finding most of them blank, either charmed or erased he didn't know which.

"The same thing you are, except for different reasons. She owled me earlier this morning and said she wanted to make sure they couldn't find a reason to reinstate your sentence. I sent a reply back assuring her that you were as free as you're going to be, but she wants to see the records for herself," Neville sighed, dropping into a nearby chair without waiting to be invited to do so.

"Of course." Draco almost smiled at how determined she could be, but the reaction turned into a frown instead. "You didn't let her see this did you? She'll only worry more if she thinks the Ministry is hiding something."

"Did you not listen Malfoy?" Neville rolled his eyes and wondered why he'd ever let himself get mixed up with Hermione and Malfoy's ill-fated schemes. She was his best friend in many respects but friendship only went so far. Hermione and Malfoy, there were two names he'd never thought to see in conjunction with one another. "I was able to leave before she saw me and could ask about the file."

"Good, is this charmed ink or did the Ministry have it purposely erased. Oh, what about the records of my father's death?"

"Those records are sealed and can only be obtained by the Minister himself," Neville explained, his eyes narrowing curiously. "If Lucius Malfoy was such a useless criminal and no one wanted to have to think about him again, why make it such a mystery? Why make it so difficult to read about the details of his death?"

"You're not starting this Lucius Malfoy's alive rubbish again are you?" Draco glanced up from the papers and glared at Neville. "He's dead, and just because you can't find out where they put him in the ground that doesn't change anything."

"There was another incident," Neville said quietly. "A man with the same description as the assailant in the Grangers' murders and Hetherington's was seen entering Hermione's shop late last night. Some local wizards went into see if they could catch him but he fled. Someone is looking for something and it goes deeper than Hermione's elves I think."

"Why the bloody hell can this man walk around all over the place and not one Auror or Ministry official can catch him?" Draco demanded angrily. "He's a suspect isn't he so arrest him or whatever it is you do."

"We're trying Malfoy," Neville growled, not liking to be told what to do by a former prisoner and with him being Malfoy to boot. "Things take time. Not to give you anything else to brag about, but it took us over two years to capture you."

"Find him," Draco ordered, in a low threatening voice. "Or I will."

"First you're trying to protect Hermione and keep her from being taken into custody, then you start rambling like that and you know acting alone could get you sent to Azkaban."

"I thought helping the Ministry was admirable."

Neville snorted and came to his feet then having said all he wished to say. "You'd deliver him to us after you threw the Killing Curse at him."

"No better than he deserves if he's the one whose been killing Muggles and blaming me for it."

Neville fought back the urge to agree with Malfoy and knew he really needed to be going before he started sympathizing with him. "Whatever, keep yourself out of trouble Malfoy for Hermione's sake. She's nutters, but she's in love with you and she's lost enough already."

"I mean it Longbottom find him," Draco said as Neville disappeared into the green flames of the fireplace.

Staring after the Auror Draco decided to put the file aside and look through his mother's diary again. He'd managed to read a few passages that morning but had decided to move on to another year. After she'd married his father the words became too painful to read. Draco knew why his father never hit him now and only used words as punishment, he was too weary from punishing his mother. Whenever Draco had disobeyed or did not live up to expectations his mother had born the brunt of the penalty for displeasing Lucius Malfoy.

That didn't make her any better in Draco's eyes however. Malfoy's didn't divorce, but they also weren't weak and timid. His mother should have taken him and left Lucius. It would have been no more than he deserved, but she'd been too pathetic to try and force his father's hand.

After reading another passage that afternoon Draco hurled the book away in disgust to hear it land with a soft thud against the rug near the far wall. How his mother could have borne such abuse and wrote about it as though it was an everyday part of life astounded him and he cursed her for her inability to be strong and fight back. Hermione would have hexed him, and possibly come close to killing him, if he ever even thought about doing some of the things his mother wrote about. That idea gave him some peace of mind in knowing that if his temper ever got the best of him Hermione wouldn't shrink away. Except the night he'd accused her of sleeping with Percy and she'd truly been afraid of him. No, she would fight him, or anyone else if they tried to hurt her.

Something else that bothered Draco was the distinct feeling he got that his mother had loved another man before and after she had married his father. She was vague in her references, but her disdain for her husband was obvious, and she was wistful talking about her school years. Also, she had outwardly and blatantly written once that had she not gotten pregnant she could have been free of Lucius. She hadn't wanted a child, and she had seen her son as a burden, and had borne abuse meant for him and punishments that he rightly deserved. His very existence had been a punishment to her, dashing her last hopes of freedom.

Draco felt physically sick and almost had the urge to burn the terrible book filled with his mother's life stories and shattered dreams. The manor had been as much a prison for her as Azkaban had been for his father and himself. True she had put herself in front of him secretly, never letting his father harm him any substantial way, but she had hated herself and him for it.

The fireplace crackled to life and Hermione stepped from it without much grace. She stumbled with all of the packages in her arms and muttered a rather crude curse that Draco didn't even know she had the nerve to say. "I think Ginny made me buy half of the store and then some. For a pureblood she goes positively barmy over Muggle clothing," Hermione muttered, dusting herself off after her unceremonious entrance.

When Draco did not respond Hermione set the bags over to the side of the desk and sat down across from him. "I spent my own money so you can't pretend to be the disgruntled husband and argue about my shopping habits," she teased, but whatever smile she had let brighten her face disappeared instantly. "What's wrong? Did something happen? Is the Ministry trying to…"

"Are you truly happy here?" Draco asked as bluntly as possible, never lifting his eyes to meet hers.

"What kind of question is that?" She wondered now if Harry had made a visit since he hadn't been at Ginny's flat or at the Ministry discussing when he would be returning to work.

"A very good one if you feel confined or weren't given a choice in the matter," Draco replied simply, his gaze shifting to the bags briefly causing him to shake his head.

"What I said a few weeks ago was to purposefully start a fight and you should know me well enough I don't do or say anything I don't want to really," Hermione assured him, watching him study the bags carefully. Surely he wouldn't take a notion to tear through them to see what she'd bought. He never went through her belongings or pried, but he was acting very curious and she had let Ginny talk her into buying a pink pair of knitted booties at _Twillfill and Tattings_. Personally Hermione was surprised she'd been allowed through the doors concerning her "dirty" blood, but word traveled fast, and to turn away a Malfoy would apparently be bad for business.

"What if you did things without knowing it?"

"You're being obtuse for a reason," Hermione accused him becoming worried where the conversation was headed. "If you're upset I spent the day with Ginny again I'm sorry, but you refuse to leave this drafty study sometimes, and I can't sit here all day with nothing to do. I had to return some books to the library and Molly read over some of my research with Arthur and…"

"Didn't you ever wonder why I left you alone those first few weeks?" Draco asked, his eyes finally resting on her.

Something was dreadfully wrong, she could tell by how dark and angry Draco's eyes were. It wasn't displeasure with her, rather something he couldn't control or understand. His features looked pained, and Hermione impulsively reached across the desk to grab his hand, but he stood and took several steps away from her. Sighing, she decided to play along for the time being. "As I recall you didn't leave me alone at all. You were hovering like an old woman most of the time and…"

"Those weren't dreams you were having," Draco stated, crossing his arms over his chest and slashing her with a shrewd stare. "I believe you know what I'm talking about."

Hermione did pale slightly then and rose to her feet. "What are you saying? Did I mention something in my sleep or," she didn't finish a deep blush spreading over her cheeks. Honestly she hadn't thought about those vivid dreams for a long time. Thinking on it more she realized since she'd agreed to remain married to him she hadn't had one dream since. Eyes wide and mouth falling open she almost dissolved into tears of shame and anger. "Like the carriage that night," she whispered.

Recalling the almost nightly intrusion into her sleep Hermione remembered how hot and uncomfortable the room had always felt, how sometimes thoughts and emotions almost weren't her own. "You manipulated my mind into thinking I was dreaming and used it to your advantage?"

"So, do you think I'm proving Potter right?" Draco asked harshly, wondering why he was approaching the subject this way. He had intended to tell her about his small invasion into her conscious thoughts and apologize, not bait her and let the situation escalate.

"I'm going upstairs to change," Hermione whispered, hoping to make it to their bedroom before she started crying. He probably thought she was a slag for acting like she had those nights when she emphatically stated she wanted nothing to do with him or their marriage. Oh, and how easily she had succumbed as well. Draco couldn't possibly respect her for her behavior. Then, however anger came to her instead. He had manipulated her when she thought he was changing and becoming a better person. There was probably some convoluted reason behind his actions, but she thought it best to leave the study before she hexed him painfully. Not that he didn't deserve it, but she kept telling herself his behavior was stemming from something else he wasn't telling her.

"Answer me," he shouted as she retreated from the study. Gods what was wrong with him? Was he deliberately trying to turn her against him and live up to his father's name? Draco mentally shook himself, but he couldn't seem to keep quiet. "See, I'm as wicked and depraved as the entire Weasley clan wants you to believe. So I'm giving you your chance to escape while you can." At that moment he wished someone would hurl a silencing charm at him before he said something he couldn't take back or would destroy his marriage beyond repair.

"Is that what this is about?" she snapped, whirling on him now giving up on trying to keep the tears from falling. Hermione hated this feeling, sadness, anger, and humiliation combined "Do you want me to leave you? Are you trying to make me so livid I'll walk away and then you can be the injured party?"

"I wouldn't have to pay you any spousal support if you left willingly?" Draco shrugged but clenched his fists at his sides and berated himself. Shut up you fool, he mentally berated himself. Just keep your mouth shut and think of a way to apologize later.

Hermione's gasp echoed through the still sparsely furnished room and she choked on a sob. She shook her head once to clear it, and started to say something, when her eyes fell on the book Draco had tossed angrily to the floor earlier. Recognizing it instantly as his mother's diary Hermione set her mouth in a firm line of disapproval. "This is the last thing you truly have to remember her by and you throw it around like it means nothing," Hermione hissed, picking it up and dusting it off gingerly.  
"Burn it," Draco snarled, rounding the desk and advancing on her.

"I most certainly will not." Hermione's eyes flared with rage and she stuffed the diary back into her robes hastily. "What in Merlin's name is the matter with you?  
"I said burn it," Draco repeated, wondering why she would ever think tucking something away in her robes kept it safe from him. "There's nothing in there but memories and lies."

"Been reading it have you?" Hermione taunted, sidestepping him when he reached for her to retrieve the diary again. "Not enough to ignore your wife's privacy in her bedroom, but lets destroy that last bond of trust and delve into your mother's life as well?"

"Either give me the diary or I'll take it from you and I don't think you're likely to win this fight," Draco warned her, fearing he would lose his temper any moment.

"What lies did she tell? That she was happy and perfectly content to stand in a corner, smile, and pat you and your father on the head for your misdeeds?" Hermione realized she had gone too far the moment something animalistic flared to life in her husband's eyes and he lunged for her. Spinning around she felt her back connect with the wall.

"That she hated every minute of her life here. That she hated my father and herself and me. Me most of all," Draco roared, before falling silent and loosening his grip. Dropping his head in defeat he released her completely and walked back to his desk hating himself for ever admitting such a weakness. How pathetic was it for someone to learn their own mother couldn't love them?

"You shouldn't have read it if you weren't prepared for what was inside," Hermione said quietly, wanting to keep hurting him as he had hurt her.

"I thought you were going upstairs." Yes, she would go upstairs, pack her clothing, that furry creature that kept leaving claw marks in the furniture and his robes, and go home to the Weasley's where she belonged.

"Here," Hermione said simply, laying the diary on the desk and turning to walk away. "I'll send Auggy in here for the bags later." She stopped at the doorway still refusing to glance in his direction. "By the way when I leave you I'll have more than enough money to survive on my own. I won't need anything from you."

When she slammed the door it was then Draco realized she'd used the words when and not if she would leave him. For a second time that day the worn diary was sent flying along with the papers and other items that were scattered on top of the desk. Some of the journals fell haphazardly onto the bags setting to the side of the desk, and they were overturned. Sighing he almost kicked the contents of the shopping bags out of his way in annoyance, but a small pair of socks lying on the floor caught his attention.

Bending down he picked them up and decided Hermione was set on teaching the elves modesty and trying to get them to dress themselves. Not that they even were approachable. The damn little things ran away from him and Hermione most of the time in fear. Still, the bag was from _Twillfill and Tattings_ and he doubted she would spend such an exorbitant amount of money on something she wasn't even sure the pesky creatures would wear anyway. Draco almost tossed the socks aside when the emblem that stated what fine quality material and stitching was used appeared to have the outline of a small infant crawling animatedly in place below it.

Reperio presentia novus vita To reveal the presence of new life 


	22. Darker Revelations

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_Thank you very much for the response to this story. I'm happy everyone is enjoying it so much. Every review is cherished._

Chapter 22

Darker Revelations

Whirling on his heels Draco rushed from the study hoping Hermione had gone to change as she said. All past anger had been replaced with cautious optimism and curiosity. Hermione rarely purchased anything on an impulse. If anything she was more watchful with her money than an old miser at times. There was a specific reason for her buying them, and if he was correct then that changed the scope of things drastically.

As he had hoped Hermione was irately stalking through the bedroom mumbling to herself and wiping at her eyes. She slammed the wardrobe door shut and glared defiantly in his direction, sensing his presence. "Was there something you forgot to mention downstairs? I'm not in the mood to fight today so really sit and brood somewhere else."

"Any particular reason you're buying baby booties?" Draco twirled the tiny pink socks around in his hand and held them up for her to see.

Today of all days he had decided to become the normal nosy husband and look through her purchases. Realizing he was waiting for an answer, and smirking as though he'd never been full of rage a few moments ago only made her angrier. "They're for Ginny," Hermione said in rush, and turned around thinking how stupid she was for losing her composure. Taking a deep breath she prepared herself for any further questions. She wasn't about to tell Draco anything right then, especially something that delicate and something she hadn't accustomed herself to yet.

She was lying and he wondered why. Draco pushed the passages in his mother's diary about dreading the day he was born, about his first birthday, and how she simply knew he would become his father one day from his mind. This was at least one place he could not doubt Hermione. She'd made it clear beyond belief that she wanted children but then a sneering voice in his mind betrayed him. She wants children, but not yours. "So, she's beginning the Weasley breeding tradition early then? Ginny's what, barely nineteen isn't she?"  
"I suppose she is," Hermione allowed, suddenly becoming very busy with a stack of her journals that sat on the marble table by the windows. "I'd appreciate you not telling Harry though. Oh, wait that isn't really something to worry about is it as the two of you have decided to be mortal enemies until death isn't that right?"

"To not want to fight inserting Potter into the discussion almost assures we'll disagree doesn't it?" Draco was undeniably certain she was lying now and he wasn't sure if he should confront her outright or let her walk away if she truly didn't want his child. No, even if he didn't suspect she was pregnant he still wouldn't let her leave him. If that made him his father's son, then so be it. Selfishly he was going to hold on to her and this child and hopefully make up for the some of the mistakes his father made.

"I'll ask again did you want something?" Hermione snapped, impatiently flipping open her journals and picking up her quill.

"When did it happen?" Obviously today Draco didn't know when to walk away or back down from a confrontation. However, as compulsively as he'd lashed out to hurt her like he was hurting earlier, he desperately wanted to know if his assumptions were correct.

"When did what happen?"

He deserved this, so Draco patiently walked over and sat in the chair across from her. "The baby, when do you suppose it happened?"

"You'd have to ask Ginny although I'm not sure why you'd care when she and Harry are intimate," Hermione replied, eyes skimming intently over the words in front of her but seeing nothing.

"You're a terrible liar. Always have been." He waited for a response and when he didn't receive one he continued. "Then again, I guess I could tell Potter. Wouldn't that be like a peace offering?" Standing up Draco reached inside her robes that were slung over the chair he vacated and grabbed her bag of Floo powder. "Do you want to come too or was the entire afternoon with Mrs. Potter enough for one day?"

"Put that down and stop it. I told you Ginny hasn't said anything to Harry yet so…"

"So someone should. It's not right for a man not to know he's going to be a father," Draco purposefully drawled the last statement, and walked slowly toward the door.

"You would ruin Ginny's surprise out of spite?" Hermione knew defeat was coming and she didn't have the energy to face what the aftermath would be. Rationally she knew that what Draco had read in the diary was the cause of his outburst downstairs, but there was the matter of her dreams that were more than mere illusions it would seem. She couldn't get the thought out of her head that he didn't respect her, or her morals. Remembering how she had begged and moaned so indecently almost made her sick, and she was certain he had to think less of her for it.

"Well I think you should come along. You could give them those booties and congratulate them properly. You keep saying I need to visit and make peace with Potter." Draco heard the softness of her tone and recognized that she was close to giving up. That rarely happened unless she was caught in a lie, and when she finally admitted the truth he could judge her true feelings again by how she explained the situation.

"Give me those," Hermione mumbled reaching out and grabbing the delicate item from his hands. Almost lovingly she caressed the tiny emblem that crawled, and then gently laid the booties on the table. "Can we please drop the subject?"  
"No. Poor Potter's languishing in ignorance and you and the She-Weasel are scheming behind his back."

Heaving a drawn out sigh Hermione stood suddenly and glared, her brown eyes dark and sparkling. "The booties are mine now put that Floo powder away and leave me alone."

"Aren't they a little small for you?" She was forgetting about earlier, Draco hoped because she was getting anxious. Hermione never backed down from a fight and Draco knew he hit a nerve when she actually ordered him from their bedroom.

"Not for me you daft prat!" she screamed, having lost what was left of her control. "They're for the baby."

"Potter's and Weaselette's?" This was comfortable again Draco decided. Teasing her came naturally, as did driving her into a temper tantrum. She really needed to learn to let her anger out more and not just dive into her books and research so hastily when things turned for the worse.

"Ours!" Hermione shouted, before slamming her hands down on the table and returning to her journals.

"Oh, is that all?" Draco said, appearing uninterested, but was leaning against the table now right at her side. "Why did you only buy one pair? Don't you suppose they'll need more of those frilly things?"

At Draco's cavalier response Hermione jerked her neck to the side to scowl at him again, thinking she would find a smug and superior smirk. To her surprise he had lost all traces of irritation, and was watching her with a gentle smile. That didn't sway her in the least. "Satisfied? Do you feel better having tricked me into telling you something?"

"No, I would have felt better if you had come out and told me yourself. Was there some reason in particular you didn't want me to know?" Here would be the moment in which Draco could tell for sure if she wanted the child, his child.

"Yes and no. Yes because I wasn't sure if you wanted a baby this soon, and no because I'm slightly terrified, think we're too young, and had hoped to wait a few years. Then, of course, there was your display downstairs, and while we're on the topic of admitting things I know what you must think of me now?" Hermione had starting gazing at her journals again.

"The same thing I always think about you, you're far too stubborn and you think too much," Draco shrugged not knowing what to exactly make of that comment. Hadn't he been the one to incite the argument below?

"I wouldn't normally act like that you know?" she whispered softly.

"Yes you would. I went too far and you lashed out. We really have perfected the technique of bringing out the worst in one another I believe."

Hermione saw him ease closer but ignored him. As usual, Draco had missed the point. "True as that may be that you did go out of your way to be cruel a little bit ago I meant another time. I wouldn't have acted that way normally, except if I was asleep and didn't know any better."

"Why do you think I had to resort to such drastic measures?" It was becoming a little bit clearer to Draco now that she was embarrassed about what had happened months ago at night. "I got away with cornering you once in the cellar and I wasn't so insane that I didn't know you'd hex me, possibly try and make me less of a man so to speak. I was desperate and instead of having to watch you smile and flirt with Percy all day long I wanted you to myself, alone, without having you worrying about what was right or wrong. I took advantage of a situation, and though I was all set to apologize earlier I don't think I will now. I'm not sorry. I'd do it all over again actually and if you get angry enough someday and lock me out of our bedroom I'll do it then too."

Disbelief and possibly a small mixture of fury played across Hermione's face, which was now a deep and beautiful pink, as she blushed at his confession. "First you admit to using devious means to seduce me then you say you're not sorry? Are you that conceited or are you just convinced of your overwhelming charms?"

"You wouldn't have let me near you otherwise and I had no way of knowing if you were only testing the waters with Percy or if you truly wanted nothing to do with me." Did she not see that this entire conversation was killing him? He had gone so far as to be sympathetic with Potter in order to wrench the truth from her, and now Hermione was making him relive the days when Percy was pursuing her and he hadn't been able to do anything to stop him.

"Here I was worrying that you wouldn't have any respect for me for acting like that, but you apparently don't care anything about respect or decency." Hermione shook her head but was inexplicably drawn to turn her chair and herself to face him better. "You didn't burn the diary did you?" Changing the subject was a better tactic. As silly as she was being now actually getting aroused remembering some of her "dreams" and hearing how unapologetic he was she knew she was losing her sanity. Draco deserved a potion that would make him inexplicably sick for days. He deserved a hex that would cause him to walk funny for weeks, or possibly be unable to function in certain capacities. Honestly, Hermione thought she might still have to make him suffer for his git ways.

"No, but I should. She hated it here you know," Draco whispered idly taking Hermione's hand in his but she pulled it back. He sighed, realizing things had gone too far this time and he couldn't expect to be forgiven so easily. "She hated everything about it and I think she was in love with someone else. I knew my parents weren't happy but I didn't know my mother wished that I hadn't even been born."

"You read it wrong," Hermione stated in a rush coming to her feet and staring back him urgently. "She loved you. She had to since she went to Snape and made him vow to protect you."

"She would have left my father if I wasn't born, but after I came she knew he'd never let her go. She called this her prison and wished that she'd never told Lucius about me and had gone to St. Mungo's and fixed her mistake."

This wasn't something Hermione understood, hate or indifference for a child. Her parents had doted on her since birth, and though both she and her parents had become lax in their correspondence over the last year she never had been given cause to doubt their love for her. "Then I hope she's dead," she said, without any remorse. "If that's all she felt was hate and self pity then that's her own fault. She had a child and even if things were difficult for her she should have taken joy in that at least."

Gingerly Draco placed a hand over her stomach. "It's true then. It's not Potter's little Weasel that's going to have a baby."

"Ginny and I did the test three times, and I swear I was careful, but things have a way of catching up with me lately," Hermione chuckled dryly, but after hearing how careless Narcissa Malfoy had been to cast her child off, the love she had for her own daughter grew even more in that instant.

"Of course a Weasley would know before I would," he remarked sarcastically but the bite wasn't really present in his tone. Hermione's outspoken anger at his mother and declaration that a child was a gift, a joy, was enough to help him understand how much she would love any children they have together. "I suppose I should say I'm sorry," he uttered softly and without any preamble. That was all she was getting, no explanations and hopefully she wouldn't push the issue further.

"Yes, you should," Hermione agreed, but let it go at that. She was surprised he had said it at all and though he wasn't remorseful about using Legilimens upon her, she knew he meant his outburst of temper down stairs. "This wasn't exactly planned," she mumbled, nodding towards her stomach and suddenly shy and feeling a little inadequate. There wasn't a night Hermione couldn't remember drinking the potion that Molly Weasley had taught her to brew after she'd been married, even though her husband was supposedly dead. Ginny had told her to keep the recipe. "You never know when the mood will strike you," she said, knowingly. The only time Hermione hadn't taken the time to be cautious was the night Draco had told her the truth about Dumbledore's death. After that she had meticulously taken care of that particular part of her life, except the day of her parents' funeral. When one life ends another begins she mused thoughtfully.

"Don't you find it a bit more satisfying that way?" Draco asked, pulling her into his arms, breathing a small sigh of relief when she came willingly and held him just as tightly. "I think you've done well for yourself as far as letting things work themselves out on their own. Wouldn't it have been rather boring if you'd never seen me again or had settled for a life in that dusty shop with elves biting at your ankles for help all of the time."

"I suppose," Hermione whispered, immensely glad that their quarrel was over and this time they had solved it without more insults and threats. It was an improvement. "I didn't mean it, what I said in the study. I'm not going to leave you."

"Of course you're not," he said confidently but hearing the words was reassuring and the last shreds of misgivings and uncertainties faded. "I'd have your accounts frozen at Gringotts and tie you up in court for years. Now you can claim you don't care how or where you live, but after the small fortune you spent today I know you're enjoying the money a little more than you want anyone to believe. You couldn't last a month now at The Burrow."

At the sound of Draco's arrogance growing in leaps and bounds Hermione playfully pounded the back of his shoulder, and intended to return as good as she got, when an image caught her eye outside of the window. Unable to believe what she was seeing she choked on a small gasp, that to her horror turned into a scream, as the man she had met in passing smiled at her knowingly, and raised a sleek blond brow reminding her so much of her husband. Lucius Malfoy crossed his arms and then threw his head back to laugh sardonically but no sound came from his ghostly lips.

"Hermione, what?" Draco pushed her away and followed her gaze behind him to the window, seeing nothing but the gray mist that always surrounded the manor during the winter months. "What's the matter? What did you see?"  
"It had to be my imagination, a trick or something?" Hermione started shaking and hurriedly sat down in the chair at the back of her legs.

"What was it?" Draco left her seated and stared out the window coming closer to look out over the grounds and beyond.

"Your father. He was at the window and he was laughing."

Thankful his back was to her, as Draco couldn't hide his expression of horror, and more frantically he searched below, scanning the area with his eyes thoroughly, but no one was there. It couldn't be. Hermione had seen something, a trick of her imagination just like she said after talking about his family again. However, there was a distinct chill in the air suddenly and Draco had the urge to pay anything, down to his last knut to see the records that told of his father's death and burial. For some reason he didn't think he could put his fears to rest once and for all until he saw the decaying body of the elder Malfoy, and knew he was no longer a threat.

"I told you they were sealed," Neville said again with a heavy sigh. Ron was at his side and was glaring at Malfoy hatefully.

"Name the man who should be approached and find out his price. Everything and everyone can be bought." Draco was enjoying the obvious heated and angry stare from Weasley and couldn't wait for him to jump into one of his temperamental tirades. Weasley had been far too calm lately and he knew the red head was aching to rant at him for taking _his_ Hermione away from the hearth of the Weasley home.

"The Minister's pretty put out with you Malfoy and he's the only one, other than Percy, I can think of that could reopen those files. Neither one of them would make any effort to help you," Neville stated as though Draco should have known the fact. "I thought you were so sure he was dead?"  
"I am, but for my peace of mind I want to see with my own eyes," Draco said slowly not sure he could trust both enough to reveal the small incident a couple of weeks prior. Longbottom could remain calm and hold his tongue but Weasley couldn't. Besides he didn't want to truly alienate the Auror after finally convincing him to make another trip to the manor. Though, to Draco's consternation he brought the Weasel in training with him. "Something's eating at you Weasley? Care to enlighten us?"

"Is Hermione home? I'd like to say hello before we leave," Ron said carefully, but still failing to mask his displeasure.

"Yes, but she's upstairs resting and…"

"Then I'll go up and just see if…"

"You bloody well will not," Draco said firmly, throwing a dark glare at Ron. After days of bragging that she didn't have any pregnancy symptoms just that week Hermione had been sicker than even she had thought possible. She had been up since early that morning throwing up and since she was finally getting some rest Draco would hex the first person that dared to wake her.

"You're her husband not her guardian, and if I want to check on her myself I will," Ron said, turning on his heel, but was caught by the shoulder when Neville reached out his arm.

"Hermione's not feeling well Ron. Leave her be like Malfoy says." Neville wondered if Ron knew that Hermione was pregnant and almost decided he did if the death stares he had been hurling at Malfoy since they d Flooed into the study were any indication.

"Yes, Weasley pregnancy tends to be tiring the first few months." Draco had waited to throw that in the Weasel's face since he had stepped in front of his desk. To add an extra flair to his taunting Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow.

For Hermione, Ron had held his tongue, kept his thoughts to himself, and Gods forbid even at times deterred some of Harry's more angry outbursts, but this was too much. "She's just lost her parents, been forced to stay married to you, and what do you do the first chance you get you trick her into a pregnancy. Hermione didn't want children yet. Ginny told me she was practically sick when the tests were positive!"

The satisfaction he had felt faded at Ron's accusations that Hermione was being coerced in anyway and Draco bounded to his feet. "Your little sister should learn to keep her mouth shut or either spread her gossip more accurately. If you want to owl Hermione you can see for yourself that she's happy. I don't have to defend myself to you or anyone else."

"Ron, Hermione's really excited. Ginny told you they went shopping again yesterday afternoon and bought out half a shop," Neville interjected wondering why he felt the urge to try and help Malfoy in this fight. Hermione wouldn't want them fighting, that was why.

"No you don't defend your actions to anyone for any reason. You simply let Death Eaters slip into our school and murder students and the Headmaster, possibly murder Muggles on numerous other occasions, but no lets not expect you to atone for any of it," Ron continued, only warming to the argument. He had been itching to let his true feelings be known and now that Hermione wasn't present he didn't have to watch himself so closely.

"If you can't find anything valuable to spit out of that useless mouth of yours you can leave."

"Not until I see Hermione. For all we know you've got her chained up in a dungeon or starving.."

"Ron," Neville sighed, shaking his head and squeezing the red head's shoulder painfully hoping to entice him to be still.

"Get the fuck out Weasley. Because of Hermione I tolerate you, but if you haven't got any other purpose then leave." Draco wanted to hex the Weasel's tongue out of his head for saying such a thing. The dungeons? What the bloody hell did that family of Weasley's think of him anyways?

"I'll try and see if there's anything that can be done Malfoy," Neville said quickly, pushing Ron toward the fireplace.

"You can't hide her away forever Malfoy," Ron snapped, but even he knew that comment didn't have any basis. Hermione came and went as she pleased, probably more so than before she'd moved to the manor a few weeks earlier.

"Longbottom if possible he's more annoying than you," Draco warned meaning that Neville had a short amount of time before he lost his temper and forgot to be civil for his wife's sake.

Hearing the crackling of the flames and then silence Draco had never been so happy to see guests leave before. Longbottom was becoming a fixture it seemed, and he had to admit that the chubby inept boy from school had slimmed down somewhat and matured into a sensible man. That Weasley git could go to hell and never be seen again.

Trying to take his mind off the suspicions that had plagued him since Hermione had seen the image of his father, Draco poured over the accounts and investments. To his surprise, George and Fred had been right. The possibility of magic carpets being reinstated had elevated the sales for oriental rugs. Well, if the Weasley's had only consisted of the twins, and their parents, then the family would be bearable.

Spending a few more hours signing papers left by his accountants and leaving instructions to divide his money into two different ventures, Draco had almost forgotten about the dark shadow his father's ghost was casting. When Franny came timidly to announce that dinner would be served in an hour he looked up and noticed the time. Hermione had slept the afternoon away and though he was glad she was getting her rest she needed to eat something. Nodding encouragingly at the frightened elf she ran away as though in terror.

No matter how hard he tried, Draco couldn't coax them to quit trembling and shrinking away in fear of him. Admittedly, when he was a child he had treated them horribly, kicking them, and terrifying them for amusement, but even Hermione, who they should have revered for all her work on behalf of their kind, hadn't managed to make much progress. For some reason it seemed as though they were afraid of something that might reach out and punish them for behaving any other way than completely humbled and frightened.

Shaking his head as he closed the study door behind him, Draco watched the elf bounce away at a feverish pace. Deciding that they would come around in their own time he slipped upstairs to his bedroom. Someday he would have his and Hermione's belongings moved to the master bedroom, and his father's either burnt or sold, whichever got rid of the evidence of his existence the easiest. Yet, Draco wasn't ready to make such a drastic change and couldn't imagine sleeping comfortably in the room for some time.

He found Hermione curled up in bed chewing on her bottom lip and frowning deep in thought. She was cross-legged on top of the duvet and had at least three of her journals spread out before her. "I thought you were supposed to be resting?" Draco asked with mild irritation, before sitting beside her and peering at the pages on her lap.

"I tried, but couldn't," she confessed with a long drawn sigh. "Anyway I thought you would be up earlier. I asked you not to let me sleep for very long. It's nearly time for dinner," Hermione accused raising an eyebrow.

"So it is," he said casually taking the quill and journal from her. "I still say you should have tried to get some sleep instead of pour over these research papers again. Just because you've started owling McGonagall again doesn't mean you need to find something new to astound her with daily. I think she'll understand that your life has changed a bit."

Hermione grudgingly let him clear her messy parchments and journals out the way and place them on the nearby table. Honestly, she had tried to sleep, but her mind was too filled with ideas and worries. She loved being able to expound on her theories and essays and to converse with her favorite professor again, but then after the excitement of finding that freedom again came the realization that her life was changing drastically.

She was going to be a mother in a little under eight months and Hermione still had no idea how to begin to prepare. Babies were monumental steps and responsibilities, and already knowing it was a girl meant the challenge was greater. If her daughter was anything like herself she would be opinionated, and if the arguments Hermione and her own mother had resorted to from time to time meant anything things would always be interesting.

"Do you want to change and go downstairs or do you want to eat upstairs tonight?" Draco asked, interrupting her doubtful thoughts.

"Oh, I should get dressed and go to the dining room I guess," she said with a sigh. Looking down at herself she knew she should memorize what her body was now before she stretched and expanded to accommodate her pregnancy. That wasn't her main concern, as she knew Draco was aware that she couldn't remain slim and wouldn't think of her differently. There was the fact again that they were having a daughter. The Malfoy family had always produced male heirs first or only males for that matter.

"Why? If I can get one of the elves to not run from me screaming in terror I'll tell them to serve us up here."

"I'm sorry the baby is a girl," Hermione blurted out, without thinking and sighed at her inability to keep her feelings to herself.

"What does that have to do with not wanting to eat upstairs tonight?" Draco had wondered when she would finally approach that subject. Honestly, he should have wanted a son first. It was tradition, a male heir to succeed the Malfoy throne so to speak. Though, as the days passed and he became more captivated by the idea they were going to have a child, the fact it would be a girl didn't matter as much.

"I know how important it is to you to carry on the family name," Hermione said hating herself for starting this conversation but determined to finish it. "Maybe the next one will be a boy."

"Well, I'm glad you're considering giving me another chance to father your children, but lets just be happy with a healthy baby instead of worrying if it's a boy or a girl." She really did worry herself too much about the small things. Draco could truthfully say he was pleased with the idea of a daughter. He could spoil her mercilessly and treat her like a princess. Basically he could give her everything he hadn't been as a child. Material things were wonderful, he still and would always purchase only the finest robes and food, but love and affection from a parent was central to a child's life.

Disbelieving at first Hermione raised her eyes and found him to seriously mean what he was saying. "But all of your family traditions, not that I really think they're all that sane, but they're important to you and …"

"I think we can safely say I went against the majority of those traditions by marrying you and doing so practically from a prison cell," he drawled before standing. "Now don't take offense and start a war about your heritage again. We've been through that subject to death and we need to put it to rest. We're happy that's all that should matter."

At that Hermione grimaced and turned her head to the side curiously. "Are you sure you're the same man I married over a year ago? Did I just hear you say heritage didn't matter and to be happy and not think about anything else?"

"Going to complain that I'm not always going to be brooding and difficult? Most wives would like their husbands to be so charming?"

There was an insistent tapping at the bedroom window and Draco walked over to allow Neville's owl entrance. The molting creature dropped the scroll in Draco's hand and flew away, feathers floating all over the carpet and windowsill. "Longbottom should really get another owl. The mangy thing looks like it's near its death," Draco muttered under his breath, but unrolled the paper.

_Malfoy,_

_The file that contained your father's records and place of burial has been conveniently misplaced. However, there were two Aurors that no long work for the Ministry interested in helping, for a small fee of course. I told them money was no object, and on my word that you make good your offer, they gave me the location of your father's grave. _

_This afternoon after sharing some suspicions with Scrimgeour himself I quietly asked the grounds keepers near Azkaban to unearth the area and a coffin was found. Malfoy, I'm not certain how best to explain this except, the coffin was empty. Your father's body was either moved or never placed in the coffin to begin with. _

_I will be at the manor tomorrow morning. Do not let Hermione out of your sight or turn your own back. I'm not certain your father is alive, but someone must want you to believe that he is. Take no chances._

_Longbottom_

"What did Neville want?" Hermione wondered, scooting out of bed and walking to stand at Draco's side.

"Pack some things, mine too," Draco said in a rush, tossing the note into the fireplace and grabbing a bag of Floo powder they always kept on the mantle.

"Draco, what? Did Neville find something out? Are the Du Marier's bothering Scrimgeour?"

"Just get some things together," Draco ordered harshly. "We're leaving, tonight."

"You've got to tell me what's happening. Where are we going?" Hermione said growing panicked. Pack things? Had the Ministry decided to arrest her or Draco for something?

"The last place anyone would look for a Malfoy, The Burrow."


	23. Madness if Born of Necessity

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_I would also like to thank everyone for the amazing response to this story. I received an email last week that this story has been nominated at the "He Had it Coming" Dramione awards site. So to whoever nominated me THANK YOU many times over. I don't know what to say except I'm honored that you thought enough of the story to nominate it._

Chapter 23

Madness if Born of Necessity

"I'll explain everything when we get there, just hurry," Draco snapped, practically dragging her down the stairs, the small bag that Hermione had shrunk with their belongings tucked under his arm.

"You have to tell me something? Did the Du Marier's threaten the Ministry again or me?" Hermione asked in a rush, trying to pick her way carefully and keep up with his frantic pace.

"Not now," was all Draco would say, having to pause briefly when Auggy scurried out from the side of the banister at the bottom of the stairs.

"Master Draco should take Mistress Hermione back upstairs. Needs rest Mistress Hermione does for baby," the creature said softly, almost whispering as though he didn't want to be heard.

"We're going to be leaving for awhile. I'll be back tomorrow to close up the manor and make arrangements for you and the others I know are hiding here besides Franny," Draco informed him, and continued, glancing back once at Hermione as though he didn't expect to find her following him.

"Master Draco please," Auggy pleaded boldly, bouncing after them frantically. "Send Mistress back upstairs."

"Auggy, everything is all right. Don't worry," Hermione comforted the tiny thing with a soft smile, still minding that she had to keep moving swiftly to stay in step with her husband.

"No, not there!" Auggy cried, as Draco opened the door to the study, having ignored the elf.

Thinking the study would be dark, as he had left it, Draco noticed the numerous candles lit and the fireplace that crackled lively to his right. It was the figure standing in the center of the room that came into focus next that instinctively had him turning to push Hermione from the room, but the study door slammed shut trapping them both inside.

"Longbottom's letter arrived I see," the silky voice drifted through the air, aristocratic and lethal.

"Oh Gods," Hermione whispered, clutching Draco's hand so tightly she was sure she was breaking the skin with her nails.

"This isn't possible. There were too many witnesses. You died, Mother explained," Draco said disbelieving, but yet somehow not surprised to see the man that was pacing before them.

"Your mother isn't here and doesn't concern us anymore. We have what we need, and though ironic as it may be, your filthy blooded little wife will be what saves us in the end." Lucius Malfoy grinned evilly then, and cast a meaningful glance over Draco's shoulder to Hermione. His hair was pulled tightly back at his neck and hung down to the middle of his back. He was wearing dark green and black robes that were laced in silver trim, as though he was still the arrogant and pretentious lord of the manor.

The blood in Draco's veins ran cold and he suddenly wondered if his mother was still alive. The things she had written in the diary didn't matter at the moment as much as the possibility that his father had murdered her. Slowly, without glancing at the fireplace to give away his intent, Draco edged himself and Hermione closer to the mantle. "Mother's dead isn't she?"

"Yes, and yet no. It depends I suppose on what you consider 'death'. That isn't what I've come to discuss." Lucius' attention had never wavered from Hermione, and he softened his smile almost into a mad placating grin. "My dear your parents were surprisingly brave I must say when it came time for their sacrifice. They knew it was for their grandchild, and someday when your time comes you'll understand as well."

The meaning wasn't lost on Hermione and she kept herself pressed closely to Draco's back wondering if her time was now or later. There was the baby to consider now and if Lucius was intent on harming her it wasn't only her safety that was at stake. "You killed them?" she asked, already sick with the knowledge she had suspected at that moment.

"How else could the money be transferred to you?" Lucius shook his head as though she was a pupil who simply couldn't learn. "Then of course that troublesome barrister wouldn't change the codicil of the will, so now we must suffer with you for another few months. However, you must realize that your child will want for nothing, and despite its rather questionable blood, it will still be a Malfoy and well respected. It's unfortunate that eccentric aunt of yours has made this so difficult, but after the child is born your money will transfer to your living heirs and the Malfoy Estate will return to its former glory."

"Father, the Ministry will end this, whatever it is you're planning. You have to know that," Draco said finally, realizing that his father wasn't sane any longer. There was a strange glow in his eyes and he was so calm, frighteningly so. Still, Draco kept him talking, kept his focus on the conversation, and continued to ease Hermione toward the fireplace.

"Not this time. Scrimgeour's soon on his way out and that Weasley spawn will take his place. Power and money, that's what that Weasley wants. It's actually refreshing to see one of Arthur's brood strive for something better than a dusty hovel in the ground I must say," Lucius laughed softly then, deadly and cold. "Besides, you knew that your friend Gregory had made himself useful after testifying so unerringly at your trial. He's been quietly working at the Ministry ever since. I've known for months now that you've been married to that Mudblood, suffering and hoping to escape your fate. How you came to agree to such a marriage I will never understand, but it will all be over soon."

"Goyle's been giving you information from the Ministry?" Draco inquired, incredulously. "The Minister's desperate to make peace with the purebloods, but not desperate enough to let a Death Eater openly near records and classified files."

"How do you suppose your execution was avoided? There were new orders written, files misplaced and erased altogether. Having a timid and eager to please boy at your disposal is always useful."

Hermione felt the heat of the flames behind her, and then Draco was thrusting the bag of powder into her free hand. Surely he meant to come with her? He hadn't kept any for himself that she could see and he kept shielding her with his body. "Draco, no," she whispered, not caring if Lucius heard or guessed his intent.

Twisting quickly Draco forced her to take the powder in her hand and then flung her arm out so the particles flew into the flames, which became green and translucent. "The Ministry, go!" he shouted, and Hermione was pushed into the fireplace and disappeared.

Hermione stumbled out into an open foyer and glanced around wildly at the office workers and Aurors that were staring at her gaping. "Weasley, I need to see Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom," she cried in a rush, hurrying over to the desk of a nervous looking girl.

Nodding quickly she stood and marched off to comply while Hermione glanced around anxiously, her eyes unfortunately falling on Percy Weasley who looked to be leaving for the night. Averting her gaze he was the last person she wanted to see hoping he would ignore her and keep walking.

"Mrs. Malfoy," came Percy's polite and curt greeting. Obviously the days of his calling her Hermione in that placating tone were over, thank Gods.

"Mr. Weasley," she inclined her head, and fully expected him to keep moving on by.

"Have you come to confess?" Percy asked, as though he was starting a casual conversation.

"I don't have to answer to you Percy. I believe the misunderstanding that you're thinking of was resolved." Though she wanted to give him a good tongue lashing that he deserved she didn't have the time. Hermione's frantic gaze scanned the offices around her until she saw Neville and Ron both hurrying in her direction. Harry was right behind them and she had a moment when she wished that he wasn't involved. He would rather see Draco pay for false crimes than raise a finger to help him in anyway.

"As evasive as your husband. I always thought better of you, but I suppose it is true that whatever evil touches it corrupts," Percy said, somewhat disdainfully, and with a hint of pity. Then, to her relief, he marched away robes billowing behind him haughtily.

"Hermione," Neville said worriedly. "I take it Malfoy received the owl."

"Lucius isn't dead Neville," she explained, without further preamble. "He's at the manor right now and I'm afraid…"

"Let them destroy each other," Harry sighed angrily, and straightened into a hostile stance. "Full circle Mione'. I'm sorry, but that's the nature of things. Malfoy destroyed lives now its time for…"  
"Harry so help me if you say another word," Hermione snarled so harshly that Ron almost took an involuntary step back. "This isn't about the past anymore Harry. There's more at stake than the feud that you've had with Draco since you met all of those years ago."

"There has to me more than just the four us involved Hermione," Ron said thinking that Harry's idea wasn't such a terrible one, but knowing better than to admit that out loud at the moment. "Scrimgeour hasn't left. He won't care what happens to Malfoy but the idea of keeping Lucius' return quiet and out of the Prophet will appeal to him. There's going to be hell to pay for this I'm sure."

"You'll help me?" Hermione asked, reaching out and gripping Neville's hands desperately.

Neville remembered hearing those exact words nearly two years earlier. Then it had been to find a husband, and now it was to save the husband that by all counts she should despise. He hadn't refused her then, he couldn't now. If Ron and Harry chose to remain behind once he'd spoken with the Minister and Robards then that was their choice. He couldn't let her lose anyone else. "Of course, lets go speak to Scrimgeour."

"I'm coming with you," Hermione announced drawing her wand as they all walked in the direction of the Minster's office.

"You are not," Ron and Neville said simultaneously.

"But," Hermione was cut off instantly when even Harry started shaking his head.

"Hermione, Malfoy would hex me to Merlin's grave and back if I let you anywhere near this," Neville said firmly. "Frankly were I in the same situation I wouldn't blame him."

"Whose side are you exactly on Neville," Harry couldn't resist the small jab at his past schoolmate, even if he himself had begun to see in small instances that Malfoy was different as far as Hermione was concerned.

"I'm on Hermione's side Harry, and if you choose to come with us tonight then that's the side you will be on as well. Lucius Malfoy deserves to be brought to justice. Think about that instead of Malfoy's role in this," Neville stated harshly, not wanting to take the time to rehash the past and the present hate that lay between the two men. After this was over Harry and Malfoy could return to being at odds, but for now it seemed that they shared the same goal.

"You fool! You've let her go. I know you can't stand the sight of her, have only kept her in hopes that the money could someday be yours, but no wonder you were always such a disappointment," Lucius raged, staring angrily into the flames that were returning to a normal golden and orange hue.

Drawing in a deep breath Draco decided to play to his father's madness. "I have to keep up the pretense," he drawled low in his throat. "If she thought I was going to agree to any of your plans she would have cursed one or both of us. She has to believe that I'm still on her side so to speak."

Lucius' eyes gleamed with what might have been enthusiastic approval. "Well perhaps you've learned more than I thought. Prison might have been a good lesson."

That comment sent a full tremor of rage through Draco but he shuttered his gaze and forced a smirk. "I suppose you had something to do with making certain they were sure it was me from the attack in London? Since you managed to pull off such an elaborate escape attempt you couldn't very well let yourself be sent back. I suppose I should thank you for making certain I never met the executioner." Merlin, this would probably kill him if he had to keep praising the maniacal bastard.

"Yes you should. Your mother would never have forgiven me," Lucius whispered, and his eyes became clouded with deep thought. A moment of lucidity appeared in the silver orbs, but vanished as though it was never there. "Now, you're certain your soiled little wife will believe you're still infatuated. That can be the only reason the tainted trollop would ever let you so close to her."

"I have her exactly where I, excuse me, where we want her," Draco falsely assured his father, feeling a painful knot growing in his stomach.

There was no easy way to extricate himself from this situation and he was fairly certain that Hermione had already spent the last few minutes amassing the support of the Ministry. They would come if for no other reason than to cover their mistake in letting Lucius Malfoy roam free for so long, but for that reason alone. Draco only hoped Longbottom was intelligent and stern enough to convince her to stay behind. Hermione had never been good at keeping her mouth shut when it counted as far as taunting an adversary and his father would forget that she carried the child, which he saw as the key to everything he wanted. Lucius Malfoy had already careened over the cliff with his last shreds of sanity, and would murder her in a fit of mad rage if provoked.

"Out of curiosity, you wouldn't have had anything to do with the Du Marier's and their hounding of the Ministry and," Draco had to take a small breath before continuing as he was, "the Mudblood did you?"

"At first I was certain I could tie her murder to that family. They've always been on the ruthless, but reckless side. Murdering her by Muggle means, with poison or a broken ladder, honestly, very common if you ask me, but I was more than happy to oblige and help them with their endeavor. However when I learned that she was set to inherit quite a sizable fortune should anything unforeseen happen to those dirty Muggles who raised her, well then I of course had to step in, and against my better judgment save her that day in her shop." Lucius sighed heavily, as though even remembering lowering himself to such an act was difficult to bear.

"Then I take it you were also behind their sudden change of heart?" Draco inquired, deciding to gather as much information as he could. The more his father said, the more incriminating it would be for the dark wizard in the end.

"As I said, they're reckless. That elder Du Marier, Amaury is it? Never truly a follower but took the Dark Mark I remember. He didn't participate in a raid, not once, but his money was what kept the cause alive for so long," Lucius trailed off, lost in a sweet and enticing memory. "Those days were the best, right before you were initiated. You didn't try to remove it did you? The Mudblood I'm sure would have objected to a marked traitor touching her."

"Of course not? I'm proud of what I chose and I went to Azkaban proud to have fallen for a worthy cause." How Draco had managed not to choke on those words even he wasn't aware. The ugly mark haunted him everyday, and it was only by a sheer miracle that Hermione had continuously overlooked the hideously scarred flesh that proclaimed what he had been in the past.

"Finally, after all of these years you've proven worthy," Lucius smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

His eyes, were they changing again? Almost aquamarine, not the silvery blue Draco remembered. Draco shook his head to clear it. He obviously was having difficulty focusing on anything feasible with his mind racing. There was a sinking feeling in his chest, that made him as sick as listening to his father's plans for Hermione and himself. He was going to have to kill the man before him or die himself.

That wasn't a selfish solution, it was the only one most likely. Hermione and the baby were worth living for and Lucius was determined to destroy what small hope he had managed to nurture in his heart recently. Draco couldn't falter now and if his father forced his hand he wouldn't hesitate to hurl the Killing Curse. He only hoped the venom and darkness needed for such a spell to work properly was within him. Lucius was his father after all, and to be the cause of a parent's death was a heavy burden, a life altering decision.

"That's all I've ever wanted Father, your approval," Draco said evenly, and sadly that was still the truth. There was a small withered part of him that hoped someday even his mother would have accepted Hermione and his new outlook on life in general. There was a hope that had always been waiting to spring to life that his father would one day look at him as something other than a possession and failure. He was as sick as his mother, seeking approval and acceptance from a man who must have hated himself as much as everyone around him. No one could enjoy misery so much if they weren't suffering themselves.

"I'm waiting for her little band of Aurors to come chasing at our heels," Lucius remarked, casually walking behind his desk and reaching into the cabinet at the side of the chair. "Still kept everything as I remembered. You knew didn't you?" he asked, with a gleam in his eyes that had once again returned to a silvery hue of glee and lunacy.

"Yes, Father. I knew you were alive and that we would have to rebuild the family fortune together. The Ministry betrayed us when they auctioned off the majority of the contents of the manor and confiscated all of the funds from the estate, except my inheritance." That was probably true as well. He'd sensed it since the day he'd looked at the chocolates Hermione received in secret. Somewhere inside Draco knew Lucius had returned, and he had put it from his mind. That was his mistake he decided, letting himself forget that there was always the darkness, always the inescapable truth that you're never free from that which controls you.

"Clever boy. Such a pity you could never make the professors at that school of yours see it. They thought they were promoting more house unity and working against prejudice I'm thinking by letting that Mudblood post higher marks. Always was so disappointing hearing that you were never good enough wasn't it? I had often hoped that would urge you to try harder," Lucius mused, turning to gaze out the window into the night.

"I've bested her now though haven't I?" Draco said, watching the fireplace cautiously. Hermione must stay put at the Ministry. Even there she was safer than to openly challenge Lucius.

"We shall see," Lucius murmured, cryptically. "When she arrives with her brood from the Ministry, which we both know she will, the depth of her affections will depend on how convincing you've been these past months."

"Oh, I can be quite convincing when I want to be," Draco confidently informed him. Am I not convincing you how utterly obedient and loyal I am to you, he sneered to himself and with much difficulty kept a dark scowl from forming on his face.

"I'm sure you can be son, but women are quite intuitive. They know when you are set to betray them and hell hath no fury, or so that Muggle saying goes," Lucius whispered, and there was distinct tone of wrath and an edge of violence in his words. "Some say you should never betray a woman, that they will most likely exact their revenge at any and all costs. That Mudblood must not suspect you in any way Draco. When she returns you must be properly soothing and charming. Lies work wonders dear," Lucius explained, as though beginning a lecture.

Draco frowned then, wondering at his father's choice of words? Dear? Only his mother had ever called him by that endearment, and very few times. Basically, when he had been small and she was still capable of smiling and looking beautiful. Was Lucius trying to play his own game and make Draco question his mother's whereabouts or was there something else?

Turning back to face his son Lucius' visage was a mask of serenity and acceptance. "Let's sit and wait patiently shall we?" Pulling the chair out from behind the desk Lucius lounged with lazy grace. Truly, everything was solved, the manor would be returned to its once resplendent state and he and Draco would work side by side to establish the Malfoy name once again.

His father was lost to more than madness, Draco decided, almost watching in fascinated horror at the man lolling carelessly before him. Lucius was actually welcoming the Ministry into his home? What could he hope to gain? They would either kill him or take him into custody. Did he actually believe he could walk away from his many crimes and receive nothing in return for his conduct?

Then the fascination turned to outright confusion and shock. The aquamarine shade had returned to Lucius' gaze, and his hair wasn't the light, almost white blond, it had always been. There were flecks of gold in the strands and he seemed to be shifting uncomfortably. This time Draco knew he hadn't imagined it, and took many cautious steps backward when Lucius' clothing became many sizes too large and started to hang on his frame. He was withering before Draco's eyes, and when the transformation was complete, Draco couldn't find any words to explain what he had seen or the image staring back at him now. Even the loud and distinct pop signaling that another wizard had Apparated into the study went unheeded.

"Ah, Snape, still as bothersome as always," Draco heard the figure behind the desk whisper, the voice most definitely feminine, but possessing Lucius' dark edge.

"Draco, go," Snape said, sharply. "Take that troublesome wife of yours and leave now."

Draco turned wide eyes to his old professor actually glad to see the gangly brooding man. "What's the meaning of this? I don't understand."

"Give me your mother's diary and go!" Snape snarled impatiently, but turned a very calm and soft gaze to the person sitting in front of them. "This is over now, we can finally end it."

"Now, Severus really," the dark voice chided, "Do you expect me to walk away now? This isn't over until I'm ready to end it. I always held the power and you never could. Everything that you wanted I managed to acquire, everything that you had I took. Don't you remember how it's supposed to end?"  
If Draco hadn't seen the exchange he never would have believed it. "Hermione's gone to the Ministry," he said absently, and heard the professor's sharp intake of breath.

"Merlin, but I wanted to avoid that possibility most of all," Snape sighed heavily, with defeat. "Its truly over now," he whispered.

"This is ridiculous," Ron muttered harshly under his breath. "The cellar Neville? It smells worse down here than some of your rotten potions in fourth year!"

"Would you have preferred to simply waltz through the fireplace in Malfoy's study and not have the element of surprise?" Neville snapped back, impatiently. He had thought Harry would be the most difficult, but Ron had already started complaining and they hadn't even met their adversary yet.

"Ron, Robards sent Wood and your father with the others to Apparate outside the gates to make certain Malfoy doesn't escape on foot," Harry hissed into the darkness. "You're welcome to join them. That's actually where I'd prefer to be."

"Both of you shut up," Neville barked, as they all lit the tips of their wands with the simple spell.

There was another group that was supposed to Apparate somewhere in the foyer and, so to speak, Lucius was surrounded. That didn't guarantee his capture, and Neville wanted Harry and Ron to be focused on their purpose, to apprehend the Death Eater at all costs. Peering through the darkness with only the minimal light to help them Neville wasn't surprised when they ran into a tiny creature that squeaked and scurried from them.

"Who's there?" Ron called out quietly, hearing the scraping of nails on the stone floor.

"Probably one of those elves hiding, or maybe Malfoy's punishing it by locking it down here," Harry suggested, with a sneer.

"Mipsy," something in the darkness cried. "Master hurt Mipsy if he think Mipsy let Harry Potter in his home."

"Yup, Malfoy's got the fear of Merlin in her," Ron agreed with Harry, derisively.

"We're here to help your master and Mistress Hermione," Neville said, soothingly.

"Mistress Hermione?" Mipsy asked, confused and more frightened than ever. "No Mistress Hermione. Mistress Narcissa and Master Lucius hate Hermione Granger."

All three men frowned at that statement and eased closer to the vicinity of the frightened elf. "What about Master Lucius. Where is he now? We promise we don't want to hurt you." Neville coaxed.

"Master Lucius right here he is," Mipsy cried fearfully as the men drew closer, their wands finally illuminating the area where the tiny thing was crouching.

"Master Lucius wake up soon and be very mad at Mipsy. Must go now!" the elf screeched, jumping up and down.

"Mipsy, Master Lucius isn't going to wake up," Neville assured her. "Mipsy you have to tell us how to get upstairs."

"But Master Lucius, Mistress Narcissa," Mipsy worried, biting her bottom lip and wringing her small hands.

"Master Draco is in danger if you don't help us," Neville said, hoping to jar the elf into thinking about something else. "Please, you have to lead us to the study."

"Master Draco came back, but we can't help him. He married the dirty-blooded Muggle. Mustn't help Master Draco until he knows better again," Mipsy said, pacing now and trembling.

This was getting nowhere, and so Neville straightened and exchanged a look with Harry, but noticed that Ron was eyeing the area behind the elf curiously.

"Merlin, Mab, and Morgana," Ron muttered, with disgust and horror, as Harry and Neville drew closer to him.

"I told you, Master Lucius here, wake up soon!" Mipsy was even more uncontrollable now.

Neville was right, Lucius wouldn't be waking up and the proof was right in front of them. Lying neatly inside the wall on the long cellar shelf was a fully intact skeleton with only a few wisps of long and straggly hair still attached to the skull. On the left ring finger was a gold and silver encrusted ring, a strange emblem with a snake encircling a dragon's breath of fire. "If that's Lucius, then who's upstairs with Malfoy?" Harry was the first to wonder out loud what all were thinking.

"Gods only know," Neville said with a shudder, and started off again hoping to find his way to the study before whatever was happening got any worse, if it wasn't out of control already.


	24. A Vow Honored

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_Thank you very much for the response to this story. I'm happy everyone is enjoying it so much. Every review is cherished._

Chapter 24

A Vow Honored

"You were always the weak one," Narcissa Malfoy snapped, but she was still dressed as her late husband, her hair that had once been a golden blonde streaked with gray and falling from the string that held it tied at her neck.

"Narcissa, the Ministry is either here or on the way. We must go," Snape said softly, his tone more soothing and understanding than Draco had thought him capable.

"You always wanted her didn't you? Narcissa was as weak as you, except she was useful, she gave me a son." Narcissa pointed in Draco's direction, still continuing the charade as Lucius. "However, until now he wasn't able to prove his worth. I thought he was completely useless after that debacle at Hogwarts with Albus, but he's finally realizing his place. We'll rebuild the Malfoy Estate and you Severus will be our bargaining chip. We'll turn you over to the Ministry and in exchange we'll be given an official pardon. You killed the most revered wizard of our time. There's bound to be a reward for helping capture you."

"Mother," Draco whispered in disbelief, and kept shifting his gaze between Snape and Narcissa. "Where's Lucius?"  
"He's dead Draco, but your mother," Snape began to speak, but Narcissa's wand was suddenly drawn and his words died on his lips.

_"Crucio,"_ she snarled in a growl that could have matched Lucius' when he was alive. "I knew you'd follow me, just like when we were younger. You always followed me, sniffing after Narcissa. She never would have chosen you, a Half-Blood. You should have known better, but that was always your weakness. Then you tried to turn my son against me. I saw you that night outside that Mudblood bitch's shop!"

"Mother, stop." This was indeed far worse than Draco had imagined and facing his father would have been more favorable at the moment. Now he knew the reason for the madness, the crazed stare in those light eyes. Yet, he didn't understand why? Why would she choose to emulate a man who she despised and was the bane of her existence? None of what he was seeing or hearing was making sense.

"I never took you for one to want their mother in a time of chaos," Narcissa remarked, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Except for the insane gleam in her eyes she was still the beautiful woman that Draco remembered, sharp aristocratic features, with a mouth that turned up rarely but was perfectly shaped and defined cheekbones. However her sneer of derision cast a brutal mask of ugliness across her features as she raised her wand to him. "Don't tell me that you and Severus have been discussing certain things behind my back. I know he's been searching for your mother's diary, hoping probably to read that she was pining for him. Did you find it and give it to him?"

"No, but, Mother," Draco began, unable to find the words that would help in this situation. How did one approach a person whose reality was something that no one could fathom? "Snape did ask for the diary but I never gave it to him. I still have it actually."

Narcissa smiled, oddly reminding her son of his father in that moment. She had obviously been masquerading as Lucius for so long she had begun to take on his more sinister characteristics. "Such a good boy. Would you go and retrieve it. I'm afraid Severus has made this a bit more difficult, and you're starting to rethink things a bit I can tell. We'll leave him here for the Ministry and then we'll retrieve your Mudblood wife." Narcissa turned her head to the side as though contemplating a great and weighty decision. "She'll have to be hidden of course. That Potter and Arthur's son Ronald will think it's their supreme duty to rescue her from her husband's dark clutches."

Snape knew that Narcissa was still present inside somewhere and the curse she had inflicted him with hadn't had the potency that required it to last for any decent amount of time. While she was making mental notes and explaining things to Draco he came to his feet. "Narcissa," he addressed her calmly, raising his own wand and dreading the idea he might be forced to subdue her.

"Such a stubborn wizard," Narcissa clicked her tongue, and shook her head. "Oh, but clever. Finally decide to draw your wand against me I see. You don't have the courage Severus. If you kill Narcissa's husband you know she'd never be able to live with the guilt, the shame of knowing her Half-Blood lover sent her him to his grave."

"Drop the wand Narcissa and come with me. You don't want to do this, you want to come with me and we'll discuss everything. Tomorrow you won't remember any of this, you know that," Snape said softly edging somewhat closer but moving very slowly.

"Draco, I want you to prove yourself this moment, right here," Narcissa ordered, in her most Lucius like voice. "Kill him. Kill this traitor who refuses to let us rise to the glory we once knew."

"No," Draco replied clutching his own wand tightly within his robes. Killing his father was a hurdle he was willing to overcome, but killing his mother was not something he was prepared to do. However, if he allowed her to leave with Snape tonight, if the Ministry didn't take her into custody Hermione and possibly their child might not be safe again. His father had done this as well. Narcissa's madness was born of his father's rage, hate, and abuse. He'd broken her completely.

Narcissa's wrath shook the walls of the study as she snarled her command again. "Kill him! You failed the Dark Lord do not fail your father!"  
"No, Father failed you. Mother, Snape is right, you don't want to do this." He must be as crazy as Snape and his mother, Draco thought to try and reason with her, but he had to exhaust every option. He couldn't raise his wand against his mother unless he could find no other way to end this torment.

"Always thinking of your mother, or more to the point thinking of her when it doesn't matter any longer. The sacrifices she made for you!" Narcissa shrieked a stray curse flying from her wand and scorching the wall behind Snape. "Don't you know how I tried to torture her, make her beg and plead when I knew you wouldn't live up to your potential. It was her fault. She coddled you, took your punishments, and she put up a barrier spell that protected you for so long! That has long since expired I assure you should you disobey me now. Kill him!"

The study door burst open and Neville, Ron, and Harry poured in, wands drawn and completely shocked by the sight. Harry immediately noticed Snape and started to point his wand in the professor's direction, but hesitated. He thought of Hermione and though he'd die hating Malfoy he'd hate himself even more if he returned to The Minsitry with Malfoy's body and his condolences. Now was a time to focus on the situation concerning what appeared to be, Malfoy's mother?

"Ah, so predictable, young Longbottom. I never expected such fierceness out of you. Why after Bellatrix safely put your parents out of their misery I assumed you would find employment in a quiet little menagerie somewhere," Narcissa cooed, venomously.

Neville as well had to keep his wits about him, aching to simply throw the Killing Curse at the woman whose sister had taken everything from him, but suddenly it was all coming together somewhat. Narcissa could have passed for a man at a distance with her face covered in shadows and she had been trying to use Lucius as a shield to keep his memory alive. Yet, that didn't quite make sense either. "Mrs. Malfoy, I'm here to take you to The Ministry. Scrimgeour would personally like to question you and there are certain matters that only you can be of any help with."

"Do you know what the _Cruciatus Curse_ feels like? Do you remember what your parents look like in your nightmares? I know you visit them from time to time and watch them drool, and mutter, and skulk about their rooms. Perhaps it's time that you join them," Narcissa purred, her attention suddenly focused on Neville completely.

_"Expelliarmus,"_ Ron shouted, and for a moment Narcissa's wand shook violently, but held in place. Darkness had invaded her completely, and Ron's attempt had failed.

"For Arthur's son I assumed you'd be much more worthy of your post," Narcissa chided shaking her wand at Ron like he was a misbehaving child. _"Evanesco,"_ she whispered, and suddenly Ron was gone, leaving nothing to tell of his prior presence.

Draco was going to hex Longbottom into his next lifetime for this. Bringing along Potter and Weasley was the next worst thing to allowing Hermione to participate in this lunacy. If either of them was injured, or Gods forbid killed, she'd never forgive him. Already he was getting the niggling suspicion that living with the man whose mother had murdered her parents would be too difficult for her. Now with Potter and the Weasel to worry about he wanted to throttle Longbottom then and there.

"Mother, where did you send him?" Draco asked politely, almost conversationally.

"Where your mother was always sent." Narcissa had again returned to refusing to see reality. "The dungeons. Poor Mipsy will have to deal with his shrieking and cries, but she always dealt so well with your mother."

Harry and Neville exchanged a horrified glance and Neville looked back at Draco, almost sympathetically. _"Incarcerous."_ Harry's voice rang out clearly and invisible bonds suddenly trapped Narcissa's hands at her sides and her legs to the chair at her back.

"Stop it you fools," Snape snapped. "You're hurting her!"  
"Silence Snape," Neville ground out between clenched teeth. "I repeat, Narcissa Malfoy you are now considered in the custody of The Ministry of Magic. Do you wish to comply and come willing or must I…"

"Leave her in peace you stubborn boy! Can't you see she's dissolved into madness?"

Snape's cry of outrage didn't sway Neville. "Harry, I'm sure you would like to be the one to bring Snape in?"

"With pleasure," Harry said, a triumphant gleam in his green eyes.

The confusion that kept intensifying around Draco only solidified the knowledge that his mother wouldn't be leaving the manor alive. Instinctually he knew that Snape would never allow her to be taken. He was the other man, the man his mother had briefly mentioned and loved, not his father. A sharp crackling noise brought Draco's attention back to his mother when she freed herself from her bonds, wand now pointed at him directly.

"They'll not take us alive Draco," she wailed, almost inhumanely.

Stunned Draco hesitated briefly, but then drew his own wand, shaking, but trained on his last surviving parent. "Mother, I don't want to do this, but if you force me…"

"Malfoy you don't know what you're doing," Neville warned sensing the finality that was suddenly engulfing them. "Let us handle her. You're too conflicted where she is concerned."

"Longbottom stay out of this," Draco snapped, over his shoulder.

"So now you have your courage," Narcissa praised sarcastically, while drumming her nails on the desk in front of her. "Merlin, but I was fooled for a time with you. That Mudblooded bitch has bewitched you. We all fall pray to women at one point in time. I actually thought I'd love your mother, but her weakness, her pathetic attempts to face her fate were too disgusting to watch day in and day out."

"Potter, you have every right to wish for my downfall, but she isn't in her right mind. Surely you see that. Call off Longbottom, and I will come willingly," Snape appealed, his dark enigmatic eyes never leaving Narcissa.

"You're just as much to blame as my father," Draco accused rounding on his former professor. "You both drove her to this. You because you didn't fight for her and my father because you were too much of a fool to keep your secrets."  
"Kill him," Narcissa urged again, seeing the tide changing against Snape in her favor.

"Mother, you don't want that. Surrender and you can get help," Draco urged, softening his voice so that he might have been talking to a child.

"Your mother is gone Draco. She abandoned us like I always knew she would. When we were in Azkaban did she come to us? Did she offer her support? No, she let us both rot and she never gave us a second thought," Narcissa said, viciously waving her hand in a superior gesture as Draco had seen his father do so many times in his childhood. It meant he was done discussing the matter at hand and now he was ready to take action.

"No, you abandoned me and I paid for your crimes." Draco hadn't been able to resist, the pain of that particular betrayal more stinging than he had thought it would be. "While I waited and thought I would be executed you walked about freely without a care to anyone or anything."

"Lies, but the Mudblood has clouded your better judgment. Pity she didn't come with the sniveling brood at your back." Narcissa had kept her wand trained on her son and now she made good her threat. _"Sectumsempra,"_ she said with a smirk tracing her lips.

Unlike the time Potter had hit him with the same spell numerous slashes began to appear over Draco's body and he could feel the blood seeping through his shirt and robes. Crisscrossing his back, chest, neck, and face bloody welts and cuts seared over his skin. He couldn't believe his mother hated him this much, but she did and she intended to kill him slowly.

" _Finite Incantatum,"_ Neville roared when the blood began to appear all over Draco. _"Petrificus Totatlus."_

Narcissa faltered again, but she did not become immobile. "Another weak attempt. Longbottom, I do believe you have chosen to pursue the wrong profession."

"Potter, she's going too far. Let me see to her," Snape said, taking cautious glances back and forth between Narcissa and Harry.

"You lie. Malfoy's right, you made her the way she is as much as her husband.

Why should I…" Harry trailed off as a sharp bolt of energy from Snape's wand hit him squarely in the chest and sent him flying backwards. Harry was momentarily occupied while Snape kept his wand in a tight grip and advanced on Narcissa.

"He's your son Narcissa, see that, remember him. He is why you made me take that vow, why you survived your life here," Snape said gently, never faltering and keeping his gaze trained on her.

"Severus he's a blood traitor like that sniveling Arthur Weasley. He's taken a Mudblood and given her the Malfoy name! Granted the money will be worth it in the end, but he's let her misdirect his thinking!" Narcissa had rounded the desk now but she still had her sights on her son. "Dirty blooded creatures have no place in our society. You aren't pure which is why in the end Narcissa made the only choice she could, myself."

"She's bloody lost any touch with reality," Neville murmured, almost inaudibly. Narcissa believed that she was Lucius and Hermione had stated very clearly that it was Lucius she had seen. Polyjuice with unlimited refills could be the only explanation and Narcissa had gotten too overconfident and forgotten to replenish herself.

"Narcissa remember that Lucius betrayed you! He gave your son to Voldemort and left him at his mercy. Remember who you are Narcissa!" Snape's words seemed to penetrate her mind and he held his breath, but then the rage returned and her wand was raised again.

"Draco should have been proud to serve the Dark Lord Severus, as should you, but we all knew you couldn't be trust. The Curse of the Seer allowed the Dark Lord to see how dishonorable you were," Narcissa accused. "When my son faltered you hesitated as well. Hesitation is weakness and disloyalty. You warned that doddering old fool didn't you? Draco was never in any position to kill him, and you thought that no one would know!"

Harry's face fell then as he came to his feet and stood between Draco and Neville. "Malfoy?" The question hung in the air at the knowledge that Dumbledore had known about the attack, but Harry couldn't trust it. The assertion had come from a woman whose mind was lost to her.

"Potter, now is truly not the time for this," Draco hissed in pain and confusion. The cuts had stopped forming but they were deep and bordering on agonizing.

"Snape she's coming with us," Neville said stepping forward but Draco's arm shot out and held him back.

"Leave them," Draco whispered unevenly.

"Narcissa!" Snape finally shouted, his patience and anger with her state overcoming him. Even in death Lucius won, there was no way to reach her. If the man weren't dead he would slowly torture him until he begged for his life and then end his existence. "He is your son! Put down the wand and come to me."

_"Lacarnum Inflamarae."_ Narcissa's voice rang out clearly.

Immediately all of three young men were engulfed in flames, their robes feeding the magical fire that Narcissa had called forth. Neville vainly tried to extinguish all of them, but he couldn't manage feeling the skin burning on his chest and back. They should have waited for the other Aurors Neville realized now, but he had thought he was ready, that Harry and Ron could stand by him and end this.

_"Infusio,"_ Robards shouted finally appearing and pouring in the study door from behind the ones amassed in the study, four other Aurors at his heels. The flames died and the three collapsed to their knees.

"Robards my good man," Narcissa greeted. "Do come in."

There could be no more holding back and Neville and Harry both knew it. Rising on unsteady legs they aimed at Narcissa. _"Crucio,"_ both said instantaneously. Yes once again, as during the war, they were casting Unforgivables, but there was no help for it. No other curse seemed strong enough.

Narcissa swayed on her feet and her face contorted, but she maintained her balance. Again the curse was repeated and again she seemed to withstand it. Years of receiving such a curse had steeled her against its affects somewhat. "This ends now doesn't it Severus?" she mused painfully the madness still not having left her light eyes.

"Narcissa!" Snape warned, when she again poised her wand on her son.

Draco slowly raised his head and time stood still. His mother gazed at him, hatefully, only loathing and disgust present on her tight features. She meant to end his life and Merlin help him, he couldn't kill her and keep from her goal. The crazed look in her eyes, the loss of her memories and sense of reality was too much to bear, and he couldn't forgive himself if his defense meant her death.

"Such a waste," she clicked her tongue once more, blinked, and shrugged.

"Avada…" 

_"Avada Kedavra,"_ a painful whisper that came from Snape echoed through the room and then a bright green light emanated from Narcissa. "Gods forgive me, but I've honored my vow to protect your son."

"There's something wrong Ginny I know it," Hermione whispered, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks.

Ginny's fears were overwhelming her as well with Harry gone and she knew his temper. He blamed Lucius for Sirius death as much as any of the other Death Eaters present that day in the Department of Mysteries. He would be ruthless and perhaps careless. She didn't like to think about what could happen to him if he forgot to watch and be on guard. "These things take time. They might be back at The Ministry already," she said, but not convincingly.

The sun had risen nearly an hour earlier and there had been no word by Floo or owl as to what had happened. Molly Weasley was equally concerned when her husband volunteered for such assignments and had tried to contact Percy, but had been unsuccessful. So, in an attempt to take her mind from her worries about her son, Ron and her husband, Molly began breakfast and proceeded to cook more than was necessary as always.

Fred and George had come to The Burrow in the middle of the night after Ginny told them of Lucius' return. They tried inane jokes, but eventually the tension got to them as well and so they had held a vigil with Ginny and Hermione offering encouragement, even knowing how dire the outcome would undoubtedly be. When both girls had stopped pacing they gave up the effort of offering false hope and remained silent, a feat not easy for them, and if their mother hadn't been as frantic as the other women she would have noted the day in writing.

"I'm going to The Ministry," Hermione announced, for the tenth time that morning, grabbing a bag of Floo powder but Ginny stopped her, again for the tenth time.

"Now I know you're not used to being left behind. You march right ahead to the front of the line and battle with the best of them, but there's the baby to consider now. What would Malfoy think of us if we let you storm down to The Ministry, quarrel with Percy, and get taken into custody? He may be infatuated enough to hand over half of his inheritance once, but twice? Every man has a limit."

Hermione turned to argue, except her mouth couldn't form the words suddenly. "Half of his inheritance? Ginny is that how he managed to get the charges dropped and the case closed?"

"Shite," Ginny muttered. Ron had told her not to tell Hermione, that Malfoy wasn't going to and didn't want her to worry. "Yes, but don't tell Malfoy you heard it from me."  
"Gods, is he that stupid?" Hermione ranted then. "That money could have rebuilt the manor, been invested, worked toward a charity for children or…"

"Hermione, for Merlin's sake!" Ginny cried in exasperation. "The man hands over nearly all he has in the way of money and you're complaining that it wasn't spent properly. Would you like being in a holding cell right now? Percy would be your only company. That alone should have you thanking Malfoy daily."

What Ginny said was true, and though Hermione had no idea how much the amount truly was that Draco must have tossed at Scrimgeour, it would have been no meager sum. Malfoy's rarely if ever parted with money and he'd done just that. "It's just…" she stammered her lips starting to quiver again.

"Hermione, he must have believed you were worth it," Ginny soothed again realizing her friend's outburst had more to do with her surprise than actual anger. "Charity begins at home Mum says. Don't judge him for his methods of saving you." Ginny stopped suddenly, and frowned harshly. "Now, see what you've made me do. I'm defending Malfoy in my Mum's own kitchen. Hermione I swear I'll hex you for this when everything is over."

"Yes, when it's all over," Hermione murmured and impulsively hugged Ginny. Maybe it was her pregnancy that made her overly emotional, but that wasn't all that was to blame. Ron, Harry, and Neville were fighting a battle without her for the first time in years and her entire life was at stake. Despite their feelings for her husband they had gone to help him in a sense. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to either one of them in their attempt, but she might very well lose her sanity if they returned with news that Draco was dead.

Lucius wasn't a fair or just man, and if he suspected Draco of betrayal his retribution would be quick and painful. Hermione again felt the absence of her parents. Knowing they were only an owl or a simple Apparating spell away had always been comforting. Except for the Weasley's Draco and their child were all she had left and she'd likely murder Lucius herself if he managed to destroy her family any further. She was willingly to let him be brought to justice for his crimes against Muggles and her parents in particular but she couldn't be trusted if the father of her child was among his victims.

"Breakfast, come along now," Molly urged, gathering them around the table like a nesting mother bird. "Eat up before it gets cold. I'll have to keep some warm for your father, brother, and Harry. Out all night without a word. They'll hear about this mind you," she said, more seemingly to herself for comfort than anyone else.

"I'm not hungry," Hermione replied, but dutifully sat as Molly ordered. "Maybe later. Fred you can have my portion."

"Mum, you've cooked too much again. I know Hermione's in the family way but she doesn't eat like a horse," George remarked, but the usual laughter didn't follow. "Mione' seriously you should just eat some toast or something," he insisted, gently.

"George, not now," Hermione warned, but Molly was already passing her a plate loaded with plump sausages, scones, eggs, and toast.

"Really George she can still hex you when she's feeling better," Ginny smirked, and raised an eyebrow, but her mischievous mask didn't last long.

"Starting without us. Mum rather rude don't you think?"

Everything fell silent, and five expectant faces looked up to see Ron frowning and appearing genuinely appalled and offended. "After the night we had you could have at least waited a little bit longer."

"Harry!" Ginny squealed and jumped from the table to throw herself in his arms.

Harry grimaced and winced, but held her as tightly as she did him, thankful that what he had witnessed and discovered the previous night could begin to form as a memory. There was too much information to muddle through at the moment and too many opinions that suddenly didn't fit into where his life was taking him. In the course of a few hours everything had changed, and his views were slightly altered. However, letting go of such raw hate and anger wasn't going to be easy even knowing the truth as he did.

Hermione stood up slowly, glancing between Harry and Ron fearing the worst. Peering over them she saw Arthur standing in the doorway looking behind him and nodding. "Contrary to what you've been told I'm sure, poverty isn't contagious. You've got to eat and Hermione wouldn't forgive me if I didn't force our hospitality on you."

Hovering at Arthur's back Draco scanned the room in front of him warily, wondering how the Weasley's could so readily allow him in their home. He'd turned down their invitations for dinners and lunches, had only been polite in passing, but how could you ignore the people who now knew your greatest weakness and had seen you at your worst moment.

He didn't have a chance to think about arguing with Neville pushing him from behind. "Malfoy I'm not going to miss the opportunity for a home cooked meal because you're afraid your robes might get soiled. Not that you should worry much, they're pretty ragged now," Neville remarked. Glossing over the events of last night wasn't going to help anyone, and Malfoy was due a rant or two for what had occurred and how it would affect the rest of his life. Neville knew what madness did to the people themselves and those who loved them. Anger was the first emotion you usually felt for seeing someone you cared for in that state. If Malfoy wanted to trade insults at this point Neville would have obliged him without holding any grudges.

Scowling at the overbearing Auror who edged past him, Draco took a hesitant step forward and paused when his eyes fell on Hermione. She was watching him expectantly, but then her gaze rested on Harry and Ron. Of course she would go to them first. She would have to hug them, kiss them, make over every wound, bruise, and scar and Draco had expected that. What he didn't expect was the force with which Hermione pushed past them, as though they weren't even there, and ran toward him seeing no one else it appeared.

Somewhere his mind registered to catch her, and ignore the pain that would surely follow when she hurled herself into his arms. Hermione didn't say a word, and that was best. There was enough time to talk and explain later. Right now there was the overwhelming warmth Draco felt at the realization she had chosen him. This time it was more profound than her revealing their marriage or leaving with him from St. Mungo's. When an injured Potter and Weasley had stood before her, Hermione had, without a second thought, come to him first, making her loyalty plain for all to see. It was a clear-cut indication that he was her first priority, and he allowed himself to enjoy it for what it was.

Arthur clapped him lightly on the back minding the newly healed cuts and burns from his mother's curse. "See, Hermione won't let you say no now," the elder Weasley grinned, and walked over to kiss and hug his own wife.

Draco wasn't listening, but rather thinking that he should savor the moment. After he explained everything and Hermione remembered that it was his one of his family members who had killed her parents she would want, no she would need to leave him for her own sanity. There was no way she could live with him day in and day out, knowing that inadvertently he was the cause of their deaths. Every time Hermione looked at him she would see his mother and be reminded of what had been. So, instead Draco tightened his arms about her, and buried his face in her hair, uncaring of the assessing stares of the majority of the Weasley family who mentally decided that many of their qualms concerning Hermione's choice could be put to rest.


	25. Unwavering Devotion and Fears Unfounded

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

Chapter 25

Unwavering Devotion and Fears Unfounded

Hermione sat quietly, something that was difficult to do as Arthur related the events of the night before. Understandably it was too difficult for the four who had witnessed what had happened. Neville had once again faced his past, the sister of the woman responsible for his parents' state of mind. Ron had been forced to wonder about the fate of his friends, held in the cellar until the battle in the study had ended, not knowing what was happening, and his temper unraveling with each second. Then Harry once again met with the professor that had destroyed the last of his youth and innocence. However, the worst was what Draco had learned, and witnessed, his mother's final decent into oblivion. Yet, Arthur did not reveal the entire scenario, not telling the fact that Narcissa had started to utter the Killing Curse and directed it toward her son. No one who had been present corrected him.

"You poor boy," Molly had cried, with actual tears forming in her eyes, but not quite falling. Not one to hold herself back she had reached across the table and taken Draco's hand, squeezing it and ignoring him when he jerked and turned a steely gaze upon her.

The entire room had held its breath, Hermione included, but she released her pent up sigh when Draco relaxed and merely nodded. The shocked gazes of Ron and Harry didn't change when it appeared Draco was going to allow the gesture. "Thank you, for taking care of Hermione," he said genuinely.

"Did you think Mum wouldn't," Ron asked, outraged before thinking better of it.

"Ronald," Molly snapped, still able to silence her child with her motherly rebukes. "Be still." After that no one, not even Draco decided to argue with her that morning.

No one had really eaten, and Molly and Ginny took away nearly a full plate from everyone except Ron. Hermione rose to follow Ginny to her old room to retrieve her robes and wand and Fred and George, happy the excitement and tension were over, left to open their shop. This left Harry, Ron, and Neville alone with Malfoy when Arthur even made an excuse about seeing to something in the garden. Ron and Harry knew immediately it was an empty reason to let them all discuss what had taken place.

"Why didn't you say anything when you were originally brought to the Ministry? Why didn't you say anything that night in the tower?" Harry asked bluntly, having kept silent long enough.

Snape had revealed everything after the group had left the manor, and though Harry was sure there could have been more done to save Dumbledore, it was galling that he could no longer let the blame sit squarely on Malfoy's and Snape's shoulders concerning his demise. Malfoy's erratic behavior the last year he was in school and Snape's vow to Narcissa made much more sense now, but Harry wanted to hear it from Malfoy's mouth himself.

"Do we really have to have this conversation Potter?" Draco raised an eyebrow and tried his best not to look weary.

"Yes, because if we don't talk about it now you'll never let me bring it up again," Harry stated, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "So you warned Dumbledore, but you still let the Death Eaters in and you still stood by and did nothing while Snape murdered him. That still makes you guilty by association. Snape's finally getting what he deserves, life imprisonment, even if there were extenuating circumstances. If you both had just trusted someone, spoken to McGonagall or the Ministry, but no, you played with the lives of everyone else in favor or keeping your secrets."

"Harry," Neville said sharply then, eyes narrowing at his friend. "We were sixteen years old, fighting for a cause that was noble, but we truly didn't understand. Malfoy was caught on the opposing side in much the same position we were. The past is that, the past. Maybe it's better if we don't talk about last night or school again."

"Longbottom, having you try and fight a battle for me isn't helping the situation," Draco sighed, but only to cover the surprise at the sudden defense. "All right Potter, have your say. Let me know how truly terrible and worthless I was that night, but remember you could have tried to shield Dumbledore. You could have focused on his well being instead of Snape and myself. I'm man enough to admit that when I'm in the same vicinity as you all I can think of is how much I'd like to hex you from my sight. It's the same for you as far as I'm concerned. We let our rivalry blind us years ago and we still are. I don't want to be your friend. Gods know I can barely tolerate the fact that Hermione will be thinking it's all right to invite you to the manor, but let's at least not dwell on that night. It's haunted us both and it's time to let it go."

"It's not that easy for me," Harry said quietly. "Don't you think I've gone over and over in my head how I could have done this or that differently? I lost too much to Voldemort and I can't simply let it be forgotten that for a time, you willingly served him. Hermione's happiness means a lot to me, but Malfoy simply putting the past aside and forgetting it. I can't, not yet."

"That's your choice," Draco said with a shrug. "Weasley, thank your mother and father again, but I think it's time Hermione and I went home." Standing he pushed the chair back into the table and turned to walk toward the entrance.

"Malfoy, don't you think that Hermione should stay here for awhile until you can sort things out a bit?" Ron asked suddenly, having only heard second hand about Narcissa's violent end and wondering if returning to the manor was the best idea at this time.

"Weasley, Hermione comes and goes as she wishes. If she wants to stay here then I won't stop her," Draco said, not turning around to address Ron directly or halting in his steps.

Neville's head nodded once as though he just confirmed something he had expected. "I know the two of you won't ever see him as anything else than what he was in school. I understand your opinions, especially yours Harry, but Hermione's made her choice and trying to make her second guess herself, or make her miserable because you can't support it won't do any of us any good in the end. Honestly, the best thing for both Malfoy and Hermione is to go home and start going about life as usual."

"Neville, now I know you're feeling sorry for him because of his mother's death and what lead to it, but he's still selfish, and he still conspired against our school. You can't wipe the slate clean even if you do understand him in a way we can't. I know you think you share some kind of experience with him now because both of you had mad parents, but that doesn't change who he is and what you are," Harry said standing as well. He was angry because a part of him knew Malfoy was right. They should let it go and he should let Hermione be happy, but Merlin help him he didn't want her happiness to hinge on his acceptance of Malfoy.

"Harry's right Neville," Ron immediately agreed, "But so is Malfoy in a way. I'm just afraid he's going to brood even more and Hermione will be sorry she chose to stay married to him is all. I wasn't there but from what I can tell, having your own Mum tell you the things she did, Neville that's bound to bugger anyone's mind."

"Then leave him and Hermione alone and let them get on with their lives," Neville stated, realizing that this was a losing battle and that things were still too raw and emotional. "I've got to get back to The Ministry. Percy won't care we spent the entire night with Snape and filing reports. He'll want a fresh account and since Scrimgeour won't be speaking with him after hearing some of those false reports of Goyle's crossed his desk I'll be stuck with him all day."

Taking off in the direction that Malfoy had just left in, Neville paused at the doorway before walking out. Seeing Malfoy leaning against the wall glancing indifferently at a wall clock Neville took a deep breath and plunged ahead, not caring if he received numerous insults or a curt dismissal. "She didn't know what she was saying Malfoy. Sometimes my own Mum thinks I'm Bellatrix. Snape explained that she had lied in the diary at times because Lucius was reading it. Whatever was in there that made you turn it over to The Ministry might not be true."

"Longbottom," Draco hissed in warning, his eyes still not leaving the clock.

"All I'm saying is she wasn't in her right mind. For Gods sakes she'd been Polyjuicing herself since your father's death! Your father is the villain here Malfoy not her and not even you. You heard what the mind healer said from St. Mungo's last night, sometimes the thing we despise the most is all that we know. Your mother had become so familiar with your father's abuse that after he was gone her sanity suffered. She clung to the life she once knew and the only way to do that was to become the man she hated for all of those years. Malfoy it wasn't healthy, but it's what your father drove her to."

"Don't you think I know that!" Draco finally looked at Neville and there was self loathing and anger etched into his features. "My father abused her and I simply ignored it. When I was released from Azkaban did I try and contact her, or did I pursue my needs?"

"By then she was too far gone, even Snape admitted to that. Remember, he said that was why he wanted the diary. Your mother had stopped being herself for longer periods of time and was constantly becoming Lucius. He thought the diary could help her remember her true self. Malfoy, the moment your mother took that first sip of potion and lead that attack years ago she was lost. She chose to continue Lucius' plans. There wasn't anything you or Snape could have done." That much was true and Neville suspected that Narcissa might well have been descending into her condition long before Lucius' death. Numerous curses and constant abuse often lead to incurable ailments of the mind.

"Longbottom, I'm in no mood for placating or friendly overtures. I fucking know you think the same of me as Potter and Weasley and I'm not going to delude myself into thinking any different. Your approval doesn't mean anything to me and I wish to Merlin it didn't mean so much to Hermione, but…"

"Sod off, Malfoy. You don't know a damn thing about me anymore than I know anything really about you. We share something in common, morbid as it may be, and I was simply letting you know that despite our past I understand something about what you're feeling. I'm not going to pat you on the back and tell you everything is going to be all right. Molly Weasley will be doing enough of that I'm guessing whether you have anything to say about it or not, but whenever you want to talk and don't want to hear the pity and remorse from everyone around you I'll be ready to listen." Neville straightened what was left of his tattered robe and raised his wand.

"Longbottom," Draco sighed at last, as though in defeat. "Perhaps Hermione might like to have you to dinner if the house elves ever come out of hiding again. She'll owl you with the day and time."

"I accept the invitation then. Are Harry and Ron invited as well?" Neville knew the answer but couldn't resist. This was different, openly chatting with Malfoy and not worrying about a wicked retort or hateful hex.

"One step at time Longbottom. Don't think for a moment that I'm going to forget that I offered peace to Potter and he threw it back in my face."

"Why did you? Why did you make the first move to end the feud?"

"One last gesture of good will I suppose," Draco said running a bandaged hand through his hair. "Potter's such a stubborn bastard and Hermione's been hiding it well, but it bothers her. At least she'll know I made the effort."

"Go home Malfoy. Hermione's probably exhausted and the healers at the hospital weren't exactly eager to release any of us. You're lucky you aren't going to scar this time and Ron's lucky that after being dispersed like that he didn't suffer any adverse mental affects. Besides, you'll need a potion soon." Saying no more Neville disappeared with a sharp and resounding pop, moments before Hermione emerged.

"What did he mean the healers didn't want to release you?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing in concern. "You and the others said that your injuries were minor."

"Would you like to stay here for awhile until I can coax some house elves into the light of day and maybe repair the study?" Draco actually didn't want her seeing the singed marks in the floors and on the wall where his mother's wrath had lead her to set them all ablaze. Maybe Weasley was right, and there was also the possibility that after the shock wore off she would leave on her own anyway. Having her close again at the manor only to have to let her go would be difficult if not impossible.

"You mean do I want to take Ron's suggestion and stay here?" Hermione raised a meaningful brow shaking her head. "I knew Arthur was wanting you all to discuss things and so Ginny and I hovered to make sure that the 'discussion' didn't get out of hand."

"He might be right. It might be better if you stayed here until things are sorted out," Draco suggested inwardly fighting the urge to simply grab her hand, Disapparate them both, and never look back at the past events again.

"You'll need me to help you find the elves. They won't come to you, especially after what happened. Now come on do you want to Floo or Apparate?"

Her stubbornness and loyalty were endearing and Draco hoped she wouldn't find them misplaced but he was sure she would. Right now the events were still fresh in her mind and maybe as early as tomorrow she'd see the situation for what it was. She was married to the man whose mother murdered her parents. It wouldn't be possible for her to survive and happily live with him. However, he couldn't let the opportunity pass that if only for the moment she was committed to him, so without another word he Disapparated them home.

The entire manor was silent, almost resembling a tomb. Hermione immediately took off for the study, wanting to see for herself the extent of the damage. She knew they had all lied to her. Draco and Harry winced more than once at the slightest touch, and though Ron ate, his appetite wasn't as ravenous as usual. Even Neville's attitude was somewhat subdued making it obvious they were far more injured than any would let on.

She heard Draco's quick steps following her and he called out for her to stop, but she bolted through the door frightening little Auggy in the process who was circling a particular scorch mark in the floor near the entrance. "Mistress Hermione? Oh, dear, must not be here, must go. Master Lucius come and…"

"Master Lucius is dead Auggy," Hermione explained but her eyes never left the marks on the floor. Fire? Not a one of them had said anything about fire. There had been a barrage of curses they had said and she knew that Draco had been slashed in several places, but no fire had been mentioned.

"Mistress Hermione? Master really dead? Can't hurt Mistress Hermione or Auggy?"

Hermione was about to lean down and assure the elf when it shrieked and hid behind her robes as Draco appeared behind her. "Auggy, it's Master Draco, not Master Lucius. No one's going to hurt you anymore."

"Master Draco still didn't learn better," Auggy mumbled clinging to Hermione's robes. "Mistress Narcissa tell us to make Master Draco learn better. Shouldn't have brought Mistress Hermione here."

"Auggy, it's over now and my mother and father won't be back. You're welcome to leave if you like in fact," Draco explained but was watching Hermione intently. She knew he'd lied and she would be scolding him for it soon.

"Master Draco, not going to get rid of Mistress Hermione? Going to keep her?"

Rolling his eyes with exasperation, and the unintended mention of his inner most fears that she was in fact lost to him now, Draco walked past Hermione and poured himself a drink. "Mistress Hermione stays as long as she wishes. Now, for you Auggy, will you be staying as well?"

"For Mistress Hermione, Auggy stay, Franny too. Mipsy will want to stay, but Mipsy is afraid to come out of the cellar," Auggy said finally letting go of Hermione and facing Draco somewhat. "Master not mad Mipsy scared?"  
"Let her know she can stay and when she decides to come upstairs again there won't be any mention of my parents, is that clear. I don't want them discussed in this house ever again," Draco said, slamming the glass he had drained quickly down with a clap against the desk.

"No talk about Master Lucius or Mistress Narcissa. Thank you," Auggy replied, and offering Hermione a timid smile bounded from the room.

"Not hurt badly? Only a few cuts here and there? You were bloody well set on fire weren't you?" Hermione raged striding forward to unclasp his robes, which she could now see were more ragged from singed material than anything else. "Harry's in the same condition I'm guessing. I should Floo Ginny so she's prepared."

"Leave Potter to his wife," Draco said avoiding her after she had thrown his robes aside and was trying to get a better look at his chest. That last thing he wanted was her poking and prodding him like that vicious healer had. When a man's chest is blistering and burnt one shouldn't think it was a good idea to pour all sorts of thick and reeking liquid on them.

"Let me see if there's anything else I can do. I know you're probably a horrible patient and didn't let the healer help you properly," she fussed, pursuing him.

"Leave it be Hermione!" Draco shouted loudly, before he could stop himself. "Just, go upstairs and rest. I'm guessing you didn't sleep all night and that's not healthy for you right now."

Hermione opened her mouth to fight, to disagree, anything, but held her tongue at the last second. He wanted to be alone and Neville had said something about a potion. Maybe he could take that and later when he was in a different mood she could see how badly hurt he was. "All right, but we haven't talked about what happened and I know Arthur said he told us everything, but obviously he left a few parts out," she said, nodding to the large scorched line on the wall to her right. "You're right, I didn't sleep last night. Ginny and I paced, and Molly cooked food that we didn't even eat. Maybe later you should get some sleep too."

She left him then, no longer worried when he became difficult or angry. There was more to what had happened and even though Hermione knew the basic facts, but that was barely scratching the surface. The Ministry had the diary, which honestly was the best place for it, and Snape was in custody even if he had only been following orders and been forced into an impossible situation. The past was revealed, the mystery behind her death threats and the death of her parents was clear. However, the depths of Narcissa's madness would have lasting repercussions, and though Draco wouldn't openly admit it knowing that even in her weakened state his mother had been so determined to control him and kill his wife was a devastating blow.

Resignedly Hermione climbed the stairs to their bedroom and hearing the scurrying of tiny feet she knew the elves were shuffling about, sharing the news of Lucius and Narcissa's departure from the manor. That she would have to remember was something that would be difficult for Draco as well. They had not been loving parents, but they were his all the same and now they were gone. There was no chance to make right the mistakes of the past. That was what he most likely would mourn, what ifs, and what never was.

"I shouldn't be letting you do this," Neville grumbled, for more reasons than simply it wasn't allowed to let anyone from the public speak to a Ministry prisoner. However, he obviously had done so before so what did it matter now. What concerned Neville more was whether or not it was wise for Draco to discuss things with the professor just yet.

"No one's going to know you let me in," Draco sighed, impatiently. "I won't tell that pompous prig Percy it was you."  
"That's not what I mean and you now it," Neville countered, stopping in front of a locked room and waving his wand to take down the wards. "You're not up to this yet and what will Hermione say if she…"

"Mrs. Weasley is at the manor so no, Hermione's not alone if that's what you're asking."

"You won't reconsider?"  
Judging by the resolute expression on the other man's face, Neville released a sigh of his own and led the way into the room. He really had to stop breaking rules like this, but these extenuating circumstances kept coming up. "Fine, Malfoy have it your way."

Severus Snape was sitting quietly behind a table in the center of a sparsely lit room. The four walls were a sickening shade of industrial yellow and no windows were present. The gangly former professor was hunched over, face down and he did not acknowledge the presence of anyone entering.

"Snape, you have a visitor," Neville announced quietly.

"Send them away." Snape's voice was even more hoarse and dry than normal.

"You don't have a choice. Malfoy, you've got five minutes no more," Neville said, firmly.

At that moment Snape's eyes lifted and some of the hair that covered his face parted slightly as he raised his head. "What exactly are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off nursing your wounds and taking care of that…"

"Why did you let her do it?" Draco asked bluntly, not offering to ease into the conversation.

With a loud sigh of frustration Snape shook his head. "Must we do this with Longbottom present?"  
"Longbottom stays," Draco said harshly more to irritate Snape than anything else. "Now, answer me. I deserve that much at least, to know why you let her lose herself like that. I know my father was the worst kind of bastard, but when you saw her receding into her own mind why didn't you do something?"  
"Like what? Turn her over to St. Mungo's so the Ministry could probe her mind, weak as it was, and use things against her? They wouldn't have cared if she completely lost all touch with reality and you know it," Snape snarled back.

"You thought you could fix her on your own? For Merlin's sake she was becoming a man she despised and each time she Polyjuiced herself she lost a little more of who she was. You could have been stronger you could have…."

"If you had just given me the diary she would have remembered who she was. I couldn't very well convince her of the fact with no proof!"

Neville shifted uncomfortably and almost stepped forward to suggest that Draco try this another time. Then, the potion's master dropped his head again in defeat and refused to look at them.

"Your mother was broken when I found her after the Ministry raid. They had taken nearly everything from her and she wanted revenge. She would go on and on about how your father would be livid if she didn't do something. Slowly she began to rely on what she remembered, your father's abuse, his absolute power over anything and everything he could touch. I tried to bring her back, I did. I researched a way to pry into her mind and make her see her madness, but everything I could find only mentioned certain cases, no cures. Your mother lost everything when the Ministry came to the manor. After that the only thing that she was accustomed to, the only person who had been a constant so many years, good or bad was your father. You know what numerous curses can do to one's mental state. She was already lost when I found her. It was just a matter of time until her madness chose which path to take. She became Lucius to hold on to something, and in the end she emulated him in everyway."

"That's all you have to say? Nothing else?" Draco snapped, impatiently. This wasn't what he wanted to hear. He needed to know that his mother hadn't meant the things she had said. He needed to hear that in the end she truly wouldn't have killed him or his new family. However, that obviously wasn't the truth. Narcissa Malfoy truly had no knowledge of herself or her own wants and needs.

"I think that's enough for now. Aren't your five minutes up?" Snape said no more after that.

Staring at the professor one last time Draco turned on his heel and stormed from the holding room, Neville in his wake. "I told you that it might be too soon," Neville whispered, before readjusting the wards and locking Snape within.

"All the same, I had to know. There wasn't anything anyone could have done was there?" Draco murmured almost to himself.

"No, there truly wasn't," Neville agreed regretfully, and followed Draco back to the Apparition point outside the Ministry.

Hermione awoke late in the evening having missed lunch, and when she saw that the time was almost eight, dinner as well. The fireplace was slowly dying in the center of the room and she ran a hand through her unruly curls before groaning and getting out of bed to rekindle the flames.

"Mrs. Weasley was here earlier," Draco said from the window but not facing her.

Not surprised or startled that Draco hadn't made his presence known sooner Hermione whispered the words and the flames leapt to life again, instantly warming the room. "Is everything all right? Harry and Ron didn't find anymore trouble to get into did they?"

"No, she came to check on us and insisted on staying until a couple of hours ago. I offered to come get you, but she wanted you to rest. I'm sorry you missed her."

"I can always Floo to The Burrow next week," Hermione yawned, before finishing her statement by raising her arms over her head to stretch. "Have you slept yet?"  
"You should go tomorrow," he suggested. "Mrs. Weasley isn't as dreadful as I would have imagined. A bit eager, but she means well."

"I'd prefer to stay home for awhile," Hermione rejoined, feeling filthy and deciding to take a quick shower. She wanted to hurry and catch Draco since he seemed to be in a mellow mood. He might talk about things now, and she had to take the opportunity while it presented itself.

"If that's what you want," Draco replied, casually.

Going about her business Hermione appeared only ten minutes later, not even taking time to perform a drying spell. To her relief and consternation Draco had doused every candle and was in bed asleep. Sighing she was glad to see that he was taking care of himself, but there was the need to discuss the night before. Acting as though nothing happened wouldn't help and she hoped he wasn't intent on trying to take that approach. This time she would have to forget to tread carefully and simply force him to talk to her. There was time for that though in the morning she supposed, and feeling hungry for the first time that day, and knowing the baby would need for her to stay healthy, Hermione stole downstairs to find something to eat.

Breathing a sigh of relief Draco was thankful she believed his attempt to fake sleep and rolled to stare up at the ceiling. After speaking to Molly Weasley he had no doubt that if Hermione needed a family she could not find a better mother in the matronly Weasley. Though the instant he had come upstairs and watched her sleeping his resolve to remain fair and open to the probable outcome that she would need to end their marriage faltered. He couldn't stay near her, see her at home as though nothing had happened, and not simply want to give into the selfish urge to deny her the right to leave it if was what she needed and wanted. His father had kept his mother until it destroyed her and when an image of Narcissa's wild eyes and frantic features assailed him he couldn't imagine letting Hermione suffer the same fate. If you love something let it go. Hadn't some Muggle written that in a poem?

Too many thoughts were colliding with one another in his mind and Draco actually wasn't too far away from falling asleep. Rationally he should have just admitted his concerns to Hermione, and tell her about his visit with Snape. Then his irrational side informed him that then if she stayed he wouldn't know if it was out of desire to do so or pity.

Returning home, knowing that it was over was a relief that much was true. Then came the guilt that he was relieved that his parents were dead. That wasn't healthy was it? To be glad that the people who had given you life weren't there to share it with you? Then again when they had both worked in separate ways to end your life why should you owe them any loyalty? Maybe he was as crazy as his mother he wondered, when sleep finally came over him.

It was freezing in the room again when Draco woke abruptly his arm immediately stretching out and finding Hermione's side of the bed empty and cold. It took great effort, but he ignored his first impulse to go and search for her, deciding to accustom himself to the feeling of loneliness. Uneasily laying back he heard the door to the bedroom open and then close. He was at war with himself as to whether or not to feign sleep again, but decided against it. Foolishly he was glad she had come back upstairs and decided to enjoy her presence for as long as he was able.

"You should have told me about the ladder, and you should have told me about the other notes when I thought most of them had stopped," Hermione began, without offering any indication what she was intending to discuss. "Neville, the twins, Harry, and Ron all knew, but me, the one it affected didn't. No more lies, even under the pretense that you're protecting me."

"Would you have been more careful if you'd known?" he asked incredulously, brining a candle to life with the wave of his hand and sitting up in the bed.

"That's not the point," Hermione huffed impatiently. "The point is I had every right to know."

"All right. I'd say the next time your life is in jeopardy from any charitable activities I'll tell you right away, except I don't intend for there to be a next time. I don't care what injustices you see or how many times you decide that this or that culture is being abused you aren't going to devote your time to anything but quiet, safe charities, understand."

Hermione bristled at the obvious arrogance in the command, but decided against letting him know that she wasn't going to have him order her about. For now she would have to take care of herself and watch her safety. "I Flooed Neville," she said, quietly.

The tension that immediately came over Draco became instantly obvious to Hermione, but she continued. "Those burns and cuts are supposed to be looked at every few hours. The potions will run out tomorrow and the healer specifically requested that you return in the morning so she could check you again. Is there anything you've neglected to tell me? Oh, yes and the fact that your mother nearly killed you. There was mention that she wasn't herself and had thrown some hexes here and there, but Arthur forgot, as did the others, to inform me of that fact."

"She didn't know what she was doing," Draco whispered, not knowing why he was bothering to defend her. It was true though, she hadn't known who she even was.

"No, but that doesn't mean that you didn't know yourself. Your mother pointed her wand at you and tried to kill you. Whether she was in her right mind or not that doesn't make it hurt any less. You've got to admit that and then you can start to forgive her," Hermione said with conviction, knowing that she was dangerously close to pushing him to lose his temper.

"She killed your parents too!" he snarled at her, and the candle light dancing in his eyes intensified the rage she saw there. "Are you feeling generous tonight and plan on forgiving her as well?"

"What I feel for you mother is difficult to explain. I hate her, I pity her, I'm sorry she's dead and then I'm not. It's conflicted and so that's how it must be for you. It's okay to feel all of that."

"Did you suddenly become a mind healer or has Longbottom been filling your head with this shite," Draco snapped, afraid that this would be the last conversation they would ever have and it would be an argument where things would be said that could never be taken back. "My mother was fucking insane and she murdered Muggles, your parents, that barrister, and damn near killed you as well. What do you want me to feel?"  
"Whatever you want? If you want to miss her, if you want to hate her then that's what you need to do. What you can't do is simply forget everything and block it out. Something terrible happened last night and no one can take it back. We all can move on and, either become stronger, or let it destroy us," Hermione continued quietly, sitting down on the bed even though she knew he probably didn't want to be close to anyone at the moment.

"You're not going to let this drop are you?" Not, now, and without any way to prepare Draco inwardly groaned. It wasn't fair but here it was, the discussion that would lead to her realizing she was better off taking herself and their child away from the madness of the manor.

"Did you let me ignore it when my parents died?"

"That's hardly fair," he said, angrily. "Your parents were murdered, viciously, left in their own blood for hours until a gardener found them. Don't you remember some of the details?"

"You're not going to shock me into saying or doing something that will make this worse," Hermione whispered, pushing the image of her parents' bodies aside. "Would you like to have a service for her or your father? That might help put things to rest."

"She was killed by an Unforgivable Hermione and my father is a useless pile of bones. What exactly is there to put to rest?"

"There could be an alter, a picture, someone to say some words."

"I'd rather not, just let this go. That's the only way I can manage with this right now. Leave it alone!" It came to him then, the real reason he had so much anger toward his mother when he should have been feeling pity and loss. She had committed the one crime that would take Hermione from him forever, effectively fulfilling his father's wish from the grave, that his wife and son's lives be as miserable as his had been.

"No," Hermione stated with a shrug, and scooted closer to him on the bed. "Now we can keep talking about this while I look at those burns. Burns can be difficult. Cuts, bruises are very easy to manage. Next to growing bones, though I think burns can be the most painful to heal at times."

"I think I agree with you. I don't know what it was but it stuck to the skin and burned almost as much as the fire had," he muttered, giving into her ministrations hoping that it would turn her train of thinking.

"Then the healer knew what she was doing," Hermione announced, pulling back the bandages that were tightly wrapped around his waist and one on his left shoulder. "I can see these haven't been checked. Do you want an infection? The potion to cure that is even more disgusting than the one for the burn and you have to drink it."

"Why aren't you working in a hospital somewhere if you know this much about potions, healing, all of those things?" Keeping her talking about anything else would be better. Draco would even suffer if she tried to poke a little, but only a little.

"It's only a hobby. I'd much rather pursue charities again. Maybe get involved with Muggle-Born rights, something like that. Actually, I remember someone not so long ago offering to let me give money to a Muggle children's hospital if I wanted." For the first time since they had returned home she smiled, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I wonder who that was," Draco hissed when the bandages pulled away from the flesh that was fresh and pink.

"You can't take it back. I chose to stay married to you and that was one of the enticements if I recall." Hermione frowned, but then nodded approvingly at the newly forming skin. "It's healing well. Whoever saw you last night will be pleased. Now, you are sure you don't want to have a small service for your mother or father? If you don't think that will help maybe you should tell me everything yourself about what happened. It's cathartic to retell something, relive it, and know that it's really over."

"Gods, will you shut up. I don't want to remember my mother, I don't want to give her a proper service, and I don't want to discuss this anymore. This is most likely the last night you'll spend here and I don't want to remember it like this!" The second his outburst ended Draco groaned, and closed his eyes in defeat. She always drove him to lose his temper in someway and most of the time he knew she did it on purpose.

"You made perfect sense up until the part about this being my last night here," Hermione sighed, with aggravation. "We had this fight before, I don't intend to have it again. Now turn over and let me wrap these bandages back. They'll need to be changed tomorrow but we can let the healer do that."

"That's all you have to say?" Draco stared back at her sullenly at how casually she had let his comment slide by her.

"We are discussing your mother, not your obvious attempt to bait me into a fight to make me forget what I want to talk about."

"My mother killed your parents and you don't see anything wrong with staying here?" Was she deliberately provoking him now? No, she couldn't know what he had been dreading, fearing the entire day. Draco's eyes narrowed at her and she truly was as exasperated as he was, but that didn't make the sudden turn of topic any easier.

"Your mother did things that she didn't realize and couldn't remember. Besides, how I choose to deal with that fact is my business. I told you to turn over."  
"Someday you're going to look at me, maybe in passing, and you'll see her and remember what she did. Someday you'll know it's too difficult and you'll leave and never look back," he promised darkly, fully believing what he said.

"That's the most daft thing you've said yet and that is a feat in itself." Hermione fell silent studying him and discovered he was completely convinced that he was right. "Gods, Draco if I wanted to leave you for something it would be for your insensitivity, your arrogance, or your overbearing ways, not for something one or both your parents did. You've got enough terrible qualities of your own to try and take on the sins of your relatives. Maybe Neville should hex you because Bellatrix is your aunt and she destroyed his mother and father's sanity."

"I don't fucking care what Longbottom thinks of me, but you're not being rational. This isn't sane, living with the son of the woman who murdered your parents." Despite himself Draco raised up and turned like Hermione had asked, still not convinced she knew what she was saying or thinking.

"You're not being rational," she snorted, but took the opportunity to finish wrapping the bandage back and started on his shoulder. "If I didn't know better I'd think this was a scheme to get me to run away so you wouldn't have to deal with the added responsibility."

"Quit turning my words against me. I was…"

"Feeling sorry for yourself and making assumptions. If I haven't walked away by now you should understand that I wouldn't ever." Hermione finished with the shoulder bandage much more quickly than the other, her temper starting to flare and her patience with him waning. Before when he had winced and exhaled sharply she'd felt sorry for causing him pain, but if he was going to be this dense and inconsiderate then she didn't care.

"I look exactly like them both," he rambled, frowning at her for her less than gentle approach. "One morning you'll wake up and think about all of the terrible things they did and that's all you'll see. You won't see me, but one or both of them and their crimes."

"Well until you started acting like a complete prat again I was going to tell you that all I see when I look at you is the man I love and the father of my child, but I don't think I want to be that nice to you right now." Satisfied that the burns and cuts were healing better than she had expected Hermione rolled to her side of the bed and pulled the covers around her tightly. "Maybe in the morning you'll make more sense."

"You're making this damn difficult to be fair and noble. I'm trying to give you the chance to make a choice and not keep you here. I'm trying to give you something my father never gave my mother, your freedom."

"I made my choice and I'm as free as the day I was born. At any time I could have called your bluff and sent you back to The Ministry, but I didn't. When you lost your temper for no reason about Percy I could have sent you away, but again I didn't. When you were being unreasonable about making peace with the Weasley's and Harry I could have decided it was too difficult, but realized I wanted a life with you more than caring day in and day out about what other people thought." Hermione pounded her pillow once angrily and then settled down again. "Now if you don't have any other rubbish you want to say or ideas about what I want and need then I'd like to get back to sleep."

There was silence from her husband's side of the bed and Hermione didn't know if she wanted to wonder what he was thinking or if it was better when he shared is ignorance with her. The candle was doused and she felt the other side of the bed dip slightly when he stretched to lie down again. Still, there was no response. "I have poured my heart out to you and you say nothing," she raged flipping over furiously. "At least tell me how overly dramatic or analytical I'm being."

"Why bother, you know when you go to far, and I know that it annoys you to no end when no one acknowledges your opinion. Besides, I'm still reeling from the heartfelt declarations," Draco drawled deciding that maybe she meant what she said. He was a conceited arse, most definitely selfish and spoiled, but she had known that, seen it daily and hadn't turned away. Maybe this was what it truly meant to commit your life to someone and honor vows.

"I take it back," Hermione snapped, and tried to turn over again. "I don't mean a word of it now."

"I thought you never said or did anything you didn't mean," he teased preventing her from twisting away by reaching out to trap her with a firm grip on her shoulder. There was no point in making himself into something he wasn't and it was finally apparent that Hermione wasn't asking him to change either. They were both too stubborn and used to getting their own way, but somehow that didn't matter. Twice, without hesitation she'd made it glaringly clear that she intended to stay with him and not let the opinions of Potter and the Weasley's matter. Why was he so concerned? Of course she would have chosen him and would be happy at the manor. There had never been any doubt he assured himself now, arrogantly.

Hermione's eyes became narrow slits and she was instantly suspicious of the superior grin that she could see spreading across his face even in the darkness. "Maybe I should have stayed with the Weasley's if you're going to be this difficult tonight, except I'd have to listen to Harry ranting about how depraved you are."

"No, I've shared you with them enough lately," Draco mused lifting her to straddle him and ignoring her indignant glare. "Anyway, you don't need Potter to tell you how depraved I am. You knew that even before Longbottom brought you to the Ministry so you could proposition me."

"I didn't proposition you," Hermione growled, squirming to get back over to her side of the bed and worrying that her weight would be too much since he was injured. "I had no choice and Neville tricked me. He didn't say it was you and if he had I would have given the money up and found another way."

"Then I suppose I should consider myself indebted to Longbottom for his discretion," Draco continued to smirk back at her. Her struggling was only making her situation inevitable and she had to know that bucking and rubbing against him only intensified his determination. Then again she could be so innocently oblivious at times, which made her more appealing.

"It's the middle of the night and we should be sleeping. You've been hurt and you need your rest," Hermione said as firmly as she was able. He wasn't paying attention to her, trying only once to yank the nightgown over her head before grunting with frustration and muttering something under his breath. The cool air in the room hit her sharply as her clothing landed almost noiselessly beside the bed leaving her completely exposed.

Her outraged gasp was appreciated but disregarded. "I'm feeling much better actually and you shouldn't be so surprised. I could always make you think you were sleeping if that would make this easier for you."

Hermione raised herself up to lean forward and pummel him with a clenched fist and Draco took the opportunity to arch himself up. Then grasping her hips firmly brought her back down, burying himself deeply. "Still want to argue?"

The annoyingly placating drawl shouldn't have made her feel contented, but it let her know that he was comfortable again. By no means would he be forgetting his mother's betrayal, but he was acting as unbearable and endearingly conceited as always, which was a beginning. "This doesn't change the fact that you behaved terribly tonight," she breathed raggedly when he brought her forward, and leaned up to take a rigid nipple in his mouth.

"You can shout at me later," Draco murmured against her skin, then rolled the bud around his tongue. "Then again, I doubt that you can resist from screaming and begging for too long. You're amazingly responsive and you forget to hold yourself back when you're angry."

Intending to refute that statement Hermione pulled back slightly to scowl at him. Instead she eagerly let Draco pull her down until she was completely draped over his body, his mouth hot and insistent upon her own, and her hips rising and falling in a rhythm he was allowing her to create. She didn't feel any embarrassment when without much coaxing she proved how right her husband truly was concerning his prediction.


	26. Epilogue

**_Author's Note:_** _All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! __Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well._

_This ends the story and I would like to thank each and every reviewer. I couldn't possibly name you all, but each and every comment was noted and valued. Thank you all for the interest in this story and the support._

Epilogue

"She's beautiful Hermione," Molly Weasley beamed, cradling the tiny newborn in her arms. "You've outdone yourself."

"Do you suppose anyone else could hold her Mum," Ginny said impatiently, as she stood beside Hermione's bed hands on her hips. "You haven't put her down since you flew into the room."

"She's not a toy you can pass around Ginerva," Molly rebuked, softly. "You'll have your own soon enough," she said, nodding toward Ginny's own small but rounded belly.

"Here," Ron whispered, discreetly passing a small bottle into Draco's hand. "Mum's going to fuss and make us all miserable for the rest of the day. We're prepared, you should be too."

Raising a tired, but content gaze to question Ron, Draco lifted an eyebrow. "You snuck Firewiskey into a hospital room? Weasley!" he whispered fiercely, but when Harry began cooing over Molly's shoulder and Ginny's tears started again, mirroring Molly's, Draco took a long drink without thinking twice. Ron just smirked and nodded as though he knew that was the only way to survive.

"Would you like to hold her Harry?" Hermione asked, pushing herself higher up in the bed, surprised that though she was exhausted the helpful spells and potions before delivery had alleviated much of the pain.

Draco immediately froze and cast her a stern glare, a silent warning that there were many things he would tolerate, but Potter touching his child wasn't one of them. He'd already lost enough battles for one day, with the healer ordering him out of the room at the last second. He most certainly had not been difficult, but that doddering old bugger had reminded him of the judge who had married Hermione and himself, and even though they kept saying the potions were working his wife had been in pain. Merlin, he was paying them a small fortune so their insistence that he was in the way, and to get out, was uncalled for. Then, Hermione's insisting that they name their daughter Alexandria after the city that held Cleopatra's grand library had been a long and bloody campaign that had ended in his surrender when he wasn't in his right mind. Draco had been so relieved that it was all over and their daughter was here that Hermione had taken the opportunity to exploit his weakness. However, with Potter, this was one fight he intended to win.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked warily, not missing the obvious disapproval from Draco.

"She's not going to break and you need the practice," Hermione insisted, flashing Draco a tightlipped frown and equally quelling glare.

Gingerly Harry took the pink and puckered bundle, feeling the eyes of a very angry and protective father searing into him. Adjusting the tiny little girl in his arms Harry move the blanket away from her face and lifted a hand to run a finger down her soft cheek.

"Make sure you pay attention to what you're doing," Draco snapped, promising himself that Hermione was going to hear just how unforgivable this was later.

"Settle down," Molly cooed, while Arthur who had come to her side hid a chuckled behind his hand coughing loudly. Not as timid as everyone else where Draco was concerned, Molly put a motherly arm about his shoulders. "Harry wouldn't dare drop her. Hermione wouldn't let him live to see the end of the day."

Still not completely comfortable with Molly's fondness for erratic affection Draco tried not to bunch his shoulders at the contact, but inwardly groaned when he felt her lifting the bottle from his hand. "Ronald!" Molly's voice cracked through the room angrily. "I know you're responsible for this. Did Fred and George convince you to sneak this into a hospital?"

This caused Draco to smirk briefly when Molly rounded on her youngest son and started giving him a list of reasons why she thought he was hopeless and without manners. That was one thing he appreciated and didn't take too much time to examine. Usually Molly was on his side, even going so far as to set Hermione in her place from time to time. However, when that happened Hermione rarely spoke to him until he apologized for whatever offense she considered him guilty of. Again his eyes fell on Harry holding Alexandria and he wanted to snatch the bundle from the incompetent hero's arms.

"Congratulations Mione'," Harry whispered, with a thick tone. Clearing his throat he came closer to the bed and slowly extended his hand to Draco. "Congratulations, she's beautiful and you should be very proud."

"Keep both hands on her Potter," Draco snarled, coming around the side of the bed.

Immediately retracting his hand Harry involuntarily grasped the baby more securely, but glared back at Draco for his angry outburst. "Obviously you don't take compliments well."

"He's doing fine Draco, but it is Ginny's turn," Hermione interceded, enjoying the company, but suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness overcome her. It would be only a couple of hours before Alexandria would need to eat again and she had the urge to sleep until the next feeding.

Ginny started crying unabashedly, with Harry whispering under his breath something about hormones as she held Alexandria. Draco watched Ginny as closely as he had Potter. She was more stable than Potter, but with all of her crying and outpouring of emotion he wanted to make sure she paid attention. How Hermione could feel comfortable with anyone but Molly holding her was beyond him.

"That's enough all you," Molly said abruptly when she saw Hermione yawn and lean back unconsciously in the pillows. "Ginny you can coo at that baby later, Hermione needs her rest." A slow relieved smile turned up Draco's lips, and he could have kissed Molly for ushering the entire brood out of the room if only for a little while. "Draco, the healer mentioned about sending Hermione and the baby home tomorrow. I'll meet you both at the manor, and don't worry I'll be staying for a few days to help with Alexandria." The smile faded and he had to stifle a groan of despair. The reprieve would be short and if Molly came to stay at the manor that would mean all of the Weasley's would be crawling around the entire time. He glanced longingly at the bottle Molly had confiscated and rolled his eyes when Ron raised a mocking eyebrow resembling something similar to 'I told you so.'

Reluctantly Ginny placed the baby back in the cradle beside Hermione's bed and would have said something to her friend, but seeing she had drifted to sleep remained silent. Arthur nodded encouragingly at Draco, and Molly braved another hug, which he returned awkwardly. "We'll be back later, just Arthur and I," she promised, and before Ron could protest that he hadn't gotten to see the baby she was forcing him out the door.

Hopefully Molly would just bring Arthur with her. However, the twins hadn't been able to leave their shop yet so it was a certainty that they would be by later to chatter and prattle away nonsense. At least Longbottom had the good grace to wait until they were home and Draco readily appreciated this. The Auror had sent an owl of congratulations and that was that. He wouldn't be bothering them for a few days.

"She's really happy isn't she?" Harry asked, standing at the doorway nodding in Hermione's direction.

"I hope so," Draco whispered, trying not to wake either Hermione or Alexandria. Stupid Potter of course wanted to talk now when they needed their rest, so he walked to the door.

"I should thank you by the way," Harry said, offhandedly. "Ginny's been having her mum over to the flat everyday asking questions and decorating. It'll be a small holiday really with her at the manor fussing over Mione'."

"You're enjoying this too much Potter," Draco warned under his breath.

"Yes, I am, but you know Molly rarely accepts anyone she doesn't think is worthy." Harry's features became serious then and he brought his gaze up to meet the eyes of his longtime rival. "She won't be happy until you admit you're part of the family someday and you realize that Alexandria will call her grandma. I'm getting closer to getting used to it, you should too." Not waiting for a response Harry slipped out of the door closing it quietly behind him.

With Harry gone and Hermione dozing Draco could slump into a chair nearby and watch his wife and daughter sleep. Potter was right, Molly had been determined to make him feel welcomed and if he was honest with himself the occasional dinner here and there at The Burrow wasn't so unbearable. Potter was insufferable, Weasley still ate too much, and the twins couldn't sit still for two seconds without cracking a joke or making a sarcastic remark, but surprisingly it was comfortable.

He would always prefer his dinner at home though with Hermione and welcome any children that came after Alexandria. Frowning thoughtfully he mulled over Harry's words and wondered, would it be so terrible since there was no one else if the children he and Hermione had thought of the Weasley's as grandparents? No, it was too soon for him to feel at ease with that concept, but Potter, the damned prat was right. Molly wouldn't be happy until they all put the past behind them.

"I thought that would work," Hermione murmured sleepily, wincing slightly when she turned to lie on her side to get more comfortable.

"That was devious, but thank you," Draco sighed, when he realized her small deception. So what if it was selfish, he wanted them all to himself at the moment, no Potter or Weasley's.

"She is beautiful isn't she?" Hermione stated proudly recalling the image of the dark hair blue eyed little girl lying close to her. "You did better than I thought you would when Harry held her," Hermione yawned, and still hadn't opened her eyes.

"Testing me were you?" Draco teased, but couldn't be angry for the time being even though he had promised himself to let her know how displeased he was earlier.

"Maybe," she whispered, another yawn trailing after the single word.

"I'm letting you get away with it this time."

"Hmm," she smiled, a little but didn't really answer.

This time she really had drifted off and careful not to disturb her Draco quietly settled back comfortably in the chair. Before falling asleep he touched the small velvet box in the pocket of his robes and smiled to himself. Later when Hermione woke up and it was just Arthur and Molly he'd finally give her something she'd deserved from the beginning, a wedding ring. It had been his grandmother's and his mother had kept it for him, he came to discover, after her estate had been settled.

Absently Draco contemplated sending word to Snape that Alexandria had been born. He hadn't spoken to the former Potion's Master since that night in the manor, but it was time. When they all returned home he might see if Longbottom could make it possible for a small visit in Azkaban. It was time to ask questions and make peace with the past and only Snape could help with that. It would be years before Snape's case could be up for review and Draco couldn't wait until he was released.

Draco then wondered briefly if his mother would have been proud of what he had become, of Alexandria, but mentally shrugged. It didn't matter as much as it once had, approval from a parent. The only thing he was concerned with was the future and his was peacefully asleep in a cradle just within reach.


End file.
